


Kill Your Heroes

by Half, TheGaySmurf



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Private Investigator AU, the slow burn nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half/pseuds/Half, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGaySmurf/pseuds/TheGaySmurf
Summary: In the Army town of Homestead, MA, Nicole Haught and John Henry "Doc" Holliday are respected private investigators, often assisting their good friend, homicide detective Wynonna Earp, with cases that cross her desk. Their lives are business as usual, until walk-in client SFC Xavier Dolls brings in a case with ties to the nearby base. With bodies dropping all around them, and a conspiracy that might go deeper than any of them are prepared for, the trio- and Wynonna's little sister Waverly -may be in far more danger than any of them expected.





	1. feeling like i got nowhere to go

**Author's Note:**

> As much research as possible was done, but at a certain point.... authorial license. Also, yes, we know there's a real Fort Wainwright, but this one is fictional and it's a reference to the show. See sentence #1

**_May 19, 2010_ ** **_–_ ** **_Hawkesville, NE_ **

 

Nicole Haught had a hiding place, deep in the woods just outside of her hometown. It was an old paper mill, which had, over the decades, degraded into little more than two brick bridges over a creek and an old brick smokestack. The only people who went out there anymore were teens who smoked and drank there on weekends. On weekdays, Nicole had the place to herself.

Mostly.

As she sat on the edge of one of the brick bridges, staring down into the clear creek water, she felt someone sit down next to her.

“Dad’s looking for you,” Hayley Haught said quietly, following Nicole’s gaze into the water.

“When isn’t he? You don’t need to find me for him.”

“I found you so that he didn’t send poor Henry out to do it.”

Nicole laughed. “Right. Dad’s personal whipping boy.”

“Nicky,” Hayley warned. “He’s trying. Henry’s _trying_. We both are.”

“In this town? The only thing the cops are good for is babysitting. Doc will figure that out eventually.” Nicole lay back, looking up at the pale blue sky. “I’m not going to stick around long enough to know what’s going to happen now that I’m an honest-to-God adult.”

“You’re going to go to college?” Hayley asked, a note of hope in her voice.

“Hayl, you know that’s not going to happen.”

“Well, you can’t just run away, Nicky. What are you going to do?”

Nicole was silent for a moment. “I joined the Army.”

“You did _what_?” Hayley turned, finally looking at her little sister. “Nicole Haught, you can’t be serious.”

“I am. I leave two days after graduation.”

“Nicky-”

“Hayley.”

Frustration lit in the elder Haught’s eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t brush me off. And for hell’s sake, Nicole, don’t be _stupid_.”

“I’m not,” Nicole insisted. She rested a comforting hand on her sister’s back. “Hayley, I’m tired of being seen as the problem. I’m going to prove them wrong.”

“Nicky,” Hayley whispered. “ _You_ have never been the _problem_.”

Nicole smiled softly. “I’m glad you believe that. Someday, maybe somebody besides you and Doc will, too.”

Hayley paused, then rested her back against the bricks next to Nicole. “You know. This probably wouldn’t be a problem if you hadn’t spray painted Dad’s cruiser.”

“He was being an ass.”

“True.” Hayley laughed softly, taking her sister’s hand in hers. “Be careful, Nicky. Promise me? I can’t lose you like we lost mom.”

“Don’t worry, Hayl,” Nicole murmured, closing her eyes. “I’m leaving. But you won’t lose me.”

 

+++++

 

**_September 4, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

“You’ll never guess,” John Henry ‘Doc’ Holliday said as he tossed a folder onto Nicole’s desk and sat down in the chair across from it.

Nicole leaned back in her seat, spinning her pen between her fingers. “She’s cheating.”

“Haught damn, you should be a detective.”

“No thanks; I think I’ll stick to investigator,” Nicole said dryly. She picked up the folder and opened it, flipping through the images. “Ouch. That’s the husband’s boss, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

“Who gets to tell the poor guy? You, me, or we suck it up and act like professionals and tell him together?”

Doc was already pulling a quarter out of his pocket. “Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

Doc grimaced. “Damn.”

“Sucker.”

“That’s like Henry’s official title. HENRY HOLLIDAY: PRIVATE DICK AND PROFESSIONAL SUCKER,” a voice snarked from the doorway.

Nicole looked up as homicide detective Wynonna Earp strolled into a room and plopped into the other chair, putting her feet up on Nicole’s desk. “There are so many things wrong with that joke that I don’t even know where to start.”

“You need more fun in your life, Nicky.”

“So you keep saying. Get your feet off my desk.”

Wynonna shifted in her seat so that her feet slid further forward. “So,” she said, shooting Nicole a smirk as the other woman irritably knocked her feet to the floor, “have either of you heard anything about any homicides? I know you sometimes have sources that I don’t know about until I come over here and bribe you both.”

Nicole took a sip of coffee. “I don’t see a bribe.”

“I dropped cinnamon rolls off at Ruthie’s desk.”

Doc and Nicole exchanged a glance.

“Shit,” Nicole muttered. She sighed and spun her pen between her fingers. “Well, Wyn, I appreciate the bribe, but I have to say I’m a bit confused. You don’t get enough homicides from the precinct?”

“That’s the thing,” Wynonna said. “I have _too many_. Nedley and I have caught six stabbings in the past week alone.”

“That doesn’t seem all that unusual,” Doc commented.

“Typically I would agree with you, but these all seem fairly random. And yet…”

“Yet what?” Nicole prompted when Wynonna trailed off, frowning.

“I have a feeling about them. And Nedley agrees. It feels like this is something serial, being made to look like random gang violence.”

“We’ll certainly keep our eyes and ears out,” Doc said, reaching over to pat Wynonna’s shoulder. “And we’ll let you know if we find anything out.”

“You guys always do.” Wynonna snorted and stood. “That’s why you’re the only damn PIs in this city that I actually trust.”

“You mean it isn’t our stunning personalities?” Nicole wondered with a humorless grin.

“Hold on, Haught, you _have_ a personality?” Wynonna replied, mock shock in her tone.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I _am_ , aren’t I?” Wynonna glanced at her watch. “Alright. I have to go down to BBA to see if anybody bought a Sig Sauer P226 in the past few weeks.”

Doc grinned. “Why would anybody want a lame gun like that?”

As Wynonna flipped him off and fidgeted with her own sidearm, Nicole swallowed and asked, “Is Waverly going to be there?”

Wynonna raised an eyebrow at her. “I would imagine so, given that it’s _her_ gun shop. Why do you ask?”

“U-Uh. I… need new parts for my rifle. I was going to go get them after work.”

“Well, you know she’d be glad to help, although Chrissy is more than capable, too. You’ll be able to get what you need, whenever you can go.”

“Right. Naturally.” Nicole pulled at the neck of her Henley and took another sip of coffee. “Uhm. Are you still having everybody over on Sunday for the first Giants game?”

“Of course. You’re still coming?”

“Would I ever miss an opportunity to see you scream about a team that isn’t located anywhere near you?”

Wynonna stared at her. “You’re a _St. Louis Cardinals_ fan from _Nebraska_ , Nicky.”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “You do realize that Nebraska basically doesn’t _have_ any pro sports teams, right?”

“Then what’s the problem with me-”

“Because you have the _Patriots_ ,” Nicole interrupted, exasperation in her voice.

Wynonna snorted. “I can’t talk to you until you learn to be more reasonable. Don’t come to my fun tailgate party until you’ve washed your mouth out with soap.” She gripped Doc’s shoulder briefly and walked out of the office.

Doc rolled his eyes. “Some day you won’t egg her on,” he muttered.

“I don’t give a damn about football unless the Cornhuskers are playing, and that’s only because you basically tied me to a chair when I was a kid until I agreed to watch the games with you.”

“I’m ashamed to have grown up with you,” Doc said seriously, shaking his head.

Nicole picked up the stress ball sitting on her desk and tossed it at him at the exact moment that there was a polite knock on the doorframe, and their secretary, Ruthie Hunter, poked her head into Nicole’s office. “If you two are done bickering about football,” she said, her voice more teasing than annoyed, “you have a client.”

“I didn’t think we had anyone scheduled?” Nicole clicked onto her calendar on her laptop.

“Walk-in. But since there’s nothing lined up, I didn’t think you would mind.”

Nicole glanced at Doc, who shrugged. “Not at all,” she said. “Send them in.”

The man who walked in was definitely military. Everything about him screamed it- the shaved head, the posture, the dark jacket and pants, the boots.

She saw his gaze slide over to the frame on her desk holding her medals, ribbons, qualifications, and rank, then saw his eyes widen slightly when he saw the separate frame holding her unit patch.

Whatever surprise hit him disappeared from his expression immediately, and he gave both Nicole and Doc a small nod. “Thank you for seeing me,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t know who else to go to about this, and a friend of mine said that I could trust you.”

“A friend?” Nicole prompted carefully.

“Staff Sergeant Isaac Rutley.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember Rutley. He’s still at Fort Wainwright?”

The man’s expression twitched. “Yes. How did you-”

“I know military personnel when I see it. You would be…?”

“Sergeant First Class Xavier Dolls. I’m a medic at the base.”

“Good to know. Have a seat, Sergeant, and tell us what you need.”

Dolls sat in the chair Wynonna had vacated earlier, and nervously looked from Nicole to Doc and back. “I have suspicions that I can’t go to CID about this. Or the higher ups. When I brought it to the MPs, they told me to just ignore it, but I can’t do that. And I can’t ask the local P.D. to get involved, because they won’t be able to do anything.”

“Anything about what?” Doc asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Dolls paused, taking in a deep breath. “I think it’s possible something is being smuggled into Fort Wainwright. And I think the whole thing is being covered up.”

Nicole downed the rest of her coffee slowly before looking at Doc. “Well,” she said dryly. “Earp said I needed more fun in my life, right?"


	2. i'm looking for a complication

**_September 4, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

“If you think this is a joke…”

“I really don’t, Sergeant,” Nicole said quickly, tossing her empty coffee cup into a trashcan. “What makes you think there’s smuggling going on at the base?”

Dolls fidgeted in his chair. “I’m the medic, but I was temporarily assigned to the Personal Effects Depot to cover for our Mortuary Affairs Specialist, who was ill.”

“Personal Effects Depot?” Doc wondered.

Nicole glanced at him. “It’s where they store the personal effects of fallen soldiers.”

“Ah, right in the name, then. Got it.”

“So,” Dolls continued, “what’s _supposed_ to happen is that the shipments come in from overseas, the effects are searched, they’re stored on the base, next of kin arrive to pick them up, the effects are searched again in front of the next of kin, they’re signed out and released.”

Nicole idly typed a few notes into her computer. “And that’s not what’s happening?”

“It _mostly_ is. The problem? The effects aren’t being searched when they first come in.”

“Oh.” Nicole’s hands slid away from her keyboard. “I can see why that would be a problem.”

“I don’t. Okay. Doggies?” Doc raised a hand. “Layman here. Can we stop assuming that I have any idea how to interpret your secret, silent Army mind communication?”

“You know the ‘Doggies’ phrase for Army soldiers,” Dolls pointed out.

“Only because _she_ -” he pointed at Nicole “-bitched about the Marines calling her that in Afghanistan even _after_ her unit saved their asses.”

“Excuse me, Doc, I know quite well that the Jarheads were just trying to salvage what was left of their badass rep. I was not _bitching_.” Nicole shook her head and turned back to Dolls. “Ignore him. He’s moody.”

“But he has a fair point, I suppose.” Dolls took out a piece of gum and started chewing on it before saying, “So, when the effects first get to the base, we need to check it over for contraband. It could be anything. Because these things are sent overseas and then released back into the public, with the only security being the searches done before shipment and after receiving.”

“Which makes sense, but you mentioned that the effects are searched again in front of the next of kin,” Doc pointed out.

“They are, but in almost all cases, the effects have been sitting on base for a _minimum_ of twenty-four hours before that happens. It’s entirely possible for someone to take something out before they’re opened up and shown to the next of kin containing nothing but what’s supposed to be there.”

“And you brought this up to the Military Police?” Nicole asked.

“I did. I went directly to Provost Marshal Del Ray. He told me to ignore it.”

“He told you to _ignore_ a serious security failure?”

“Yes. And the very next day, I was assigned back to my medical duties, and one of the MPs was put into the Depot assignment.”

“That… certainly _is_ suspicious…” Nicole murmured, biting her lip and staring at her computer screen.

“I know there’s probably not much you can do,” Dolls said. “But if you can just look into it, just see if there’s anything suspicious, I’d appreciate it. I don’t have enough pull at the base to question what’s going on, especially not if the MPs are involved. And for something that would have to be _that_ organized, I think at least one member of the upper brass would have to be involved, as well. I was told that I could trust you, Ms. Haught. I just want to do the right thing.”

“You did, Sergeant Dolls. I promise that you did.” Nicole closed her laptop. “We’ll look into it. And whatever information we can get, we’ll get.”

“Thank you. Both of you.”

Once Dolls had left the office, Doc let out a long, slow sigh. “How screwed are we? For taking this case?”

“What do you mean?”

“Corruption in the goddamn military? Come on, Nicky, you of all people know how bad this can get. We’re just private investigators.”

“Wainwright was _my base_ for _two years_ , Doc,” Nicole said quietly. “I stayed in this city because that base let me fall in love with it. If somebody’s disgracing it, I’m going to find out _who_ and _why_ , and I’m going to put a stop to it.” She gave him a sideways look. “You don’t have to work with me on this if you don’t want to.”

“Aw, hell. Hayley would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you.”

“You’d never forgive _yourself_ ,” Nicole teased. “You looked guilty enough when I broke my arm when I was five, if you remember.”

“If I remember? That’s when you started calling me ‘Doc’.” He stood and leaned over Nicole’s desk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do recall Wynonna Earp saying something about cinnamon rolls. And you _know_ that Ruthie will take them all home with her for her grandkids if we don’t get out there before she leaves at four.”

There was a long pause as they both just stared at each other. Then, slowly, Nicole stood up with as much self-control as she possessed and walked around to the front of the desk. “I _suppose_ it wouldn’t be _right_ to pass up something Wynonna so graciously provided us.”

“Bullshit, Haught. You just want food.”

“I’m not ashamed to admit that,” Nicole said. “I just want to make sure I get there _first_.” She shoved Doc back into his chair and swiftly moved towards the door, pausing in the doorway and grinning. “You should’ve caught on to that game by now, Holliday, I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

“I thought the Army trained that nonsense out of you,” Doc grumbled as he got out of his chair.

“For the most part. But I’m _never_ going to lose the love of taunting _you_.” With a sharp laugh, she left the room.

Shaking his head, Doc muttered a curse under his breath and followed.

 

+++++

 

Black Badge Armory was a gun shop and range owned and operated by Waverly Earp, with assistance from her best friend, Chrissy Nedley. The BBA had a reputation within Homestead as one of the best in the business, and it was often crowded with customers. That was the main reason that Wynonna tended to avoid the place until it was during one of its slow hours, in this case the hour between three-thirty and four-thirty in the afternoon.

“Hey, sis,” Waverly greeted, giving Wynonna a quick hug as she passed her on the way to stock holsters.

“What do you need, Wynonna?” Chrissy asked. She was in the process of examining a rifle that was taken apart on the front counter.

“I was wondering if you guys had anyone buy a Sig P226 recently.”

As Waverly picked up a few more holsters from their box, she asked, “Why would anybody buy one of those?”

“Har har. Henry already made that joke, so you’re late.”

“Damn.”

Chrissy, ignoring them completely, opened up the inquiries window on the store computer and typed in a few commands. After a moment, she shook her head. “Nobody’s actually bought _any_ Sigs from us in the past _month_. Bit unusual, but not unheard of. We go in cycles sometimes. Looks like we’re in a Glock cycle.”

“Damn. Oh well. Thanks for checking.”

“Not a problem.”

Wynonna slid her notebook into her jacket pocket. “Oh, Nic mentioned she was going to swing by later to pick up some rifle parts. Maybe check in with her first if you’re planning on closing up early today? You know how she gets about her firearms.”

“Nic is stopping by later?” Waverly asked, anxiety edging around her eyes as she closed the box she had been working with and locked it in a cabinet behind the counter.

“That’s what she said,” Wynonna replied with a shrug.

“Oh. Okay. Well. I, uh, guess… I’ll definitely still be here, y’know, just to be polite.” Waverly cleared her throat. “I need to get some things from the back.” She hurried away, disappearing down one of the aisles and nervously wiping her hands with a towel.

“She’s an idiot,” Wynonna sighed, leaning on the counter.

Chrissy didn’t even look up from her examination of the rifle sitting on the glass. “Yep.”

 

+++++

 

Wynonna walked into the 27th precinct and sat down at her desk, directly across from Detective Randy Nedley. Her partner was frowning at a stack of paperwork that had, somehow, doubled in size in the time she had been gone.

“Oh good.” He picked up half of the pile and set it on her desk. “Help.”

“Yay,” Wynonna said dryly. “What made me decide to become a cop again?”

“To prove you’re better than your Daddy ever was,” Nedley replied in a mechanical voice as he wrote.

“Yes, well, I _know_ that, but I’m still an _idiot_.”

“Hm.” Nedley took a sip of his coffee. “Could’ve told you that when you were twelve.”

“Thanks a lot, Nedley.”

“Never a problem, Earp.” He picked up a second coffee cup on his desk and handed it to her. “Coffee?”

She blinked at him before accepting it. “How did you…?”

“I’m a detective.”

“And a smartass.”

“Just drink the damn coffee and tell me what you found while you were out.”

Wynonna smiled slightly and took a sip. “I found shit. Like, not _literally_ , I mean that I found not a goddamn thing. Nicole and Henry haven’t heard anything about these murders. Wave and Chrissy haven’t sold any Sig Sauers. We’re fresh out of luck on our go-to sources.”

“Shame. The body count got higher while you were gone. Stanton and Marks caught two bodies up on 12th Street. Exact same M.O.”

“Jesus. Come on, Nedley, this _has_ to be serial.”

“I agree, but the Captain won’t let us treat it that way. And you know Cryderman. What he says goes, whether we like it or not.”

Wynonna groaned loudly and started filling out the paperwork Nedley had handed her. “I hate politics.”

“Yeah?” Nedley gave a short laugh. “Then you got into the wrong career, kiddo.”

 

+++++

 

Waverly had busied herself with invoices in an attempt to avoid her sister, and it was only when she next checked her watch that she realized that it was almost time for Chrissy to leave for the day.

And time for Nicole’s office to close.

The panic that rippled over her was completely unrelated to Army Veteran, Private Investigator, Expert Rifle Marksman, Absurdly Well-Surnamed Nicole Haught. It was just because Waverly didn’t want to keep Chrissy at work past her shift.

Completely.

Waverly hurried out of the back office, reading through a stock list in an attempt to clear her thoughts before she had to talk to Chrissy. She didn’t notice the person standing in the middle of the aisle.

The person she slammed directly into, sending both of them tumbling to the floor.

“Ow,” Waverly muttered, raising the hand that had slammed into the cement floor to make sure it wasn’t bleeding. “Sorry.”

“T-That’s okay.”

Waverly felt a whole new panic flood through her as she turned her head and realized who she had run into. Who she was _lying on top of_ , whose face was far, _far_ too close to hers.

Nicole Haught gave her a bemused smile.


	3. heaven help a fool who falls in love

**_September 4, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

“Waverly,” Nicole said, her voice containing more patience than Waverly thought possible given their current situation.

“Yes,” Waverly whispered, trying to ignore the fact that she was so close to Nicole that their noses were almost touching, and they were breathing the same air, and she could tell exactly what Nicole smelled like, and Nicole’s hands were on her hips to keep her balanced, and if she didn’t know better she would swear that Nicole’s fingers were trembling, and-

“Your hand, Waverly.”

As distressing as it was, Waverly was _glad_ Nicole was holding her by her hips, because if she hadn’t been, Waverly would’ve fallen over when she realized that the hand that hadn’t hit the floor was currently resting on top of Nicole’s chest.

‘Resting’ was probably too gentle a word.

The proper term was probably ‘using Nicole’s chest to support her weight’.

“Oh, God,” Waverly said, and thankfully her voice came out clear instead of the weak rasp she was expecting. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Nicole replied, her voice still unbreakably calm. “It was an accident. It _was_ an accident, right?”

“ _Absolutely_. I just… uh, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and…” Waverly trailed off, distracted again by the _closeness_. She could see every slight variation in the color of Nicole’s eyes, for hell’s sake. She swallowed and took in a long, slow breath, fighting off the desire to just give in and kiss her.

Nicole opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, footsteps rounded into the aisle and Chrissy’s voice said, “Oh. Uhm. Shit.”

Waverly’s gaze shot up to her friend in horror, painfully aware of just what her current predicament _looked like_ , with her sprawled on top of Nicole, hand on her chest, Nicole’s hands gripping her waist, faces barely inches apart.

“Sorry. Am I interrupting something?” Chrissy asked, a note of amusement in her eyes.

“Accident. Nothing going on.” Waverly scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off. “Have you found what you needed, Nicole?”

“What?” Nicole, still on the floor, stared up at her. “Oh. Uh, I actually forgot to write down the full list of what I need, so I’m gonna come back tomorrow and get everything.” She stood in a fluid movement without using her hands for leverage, and Waverly felt an uncomfortable twist in her stomach. “I’ll see you guys later, yeah?”

With that same _aggravating_ calmness, Nicole strolled out of the shop.

“Well, I guess that was an embarrassing accident,” Waverly laughed awkwardly, pushing past Chrissy and heading towards the front counter.

“Oh, no, absolutely not.” Chrissy followed after her quickly. “We need to talk about that.”

“About what? I was just a weird accident.”

“If you say the word ‘accident’ one more time, I’m shooting you.”

Waverly paused. “Happenstance.”

“Earp, you were about three seconds away from making out with Nicole.”

“Whoa,” Waverly said holding up a hand. “No. No, I was not. Nicole is just a friend.”

“Sure. Most people grope and linger their lips close together with people that they have no feelings for. That definitely happens.”

Waverly’s gaze went distant. “She smells like pine and gunpowder,” she whispered.

“What?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Waverly stammered.

“Oh my _God_.” Chrissy shook her head slowly. “Were you just talking about what Nicole _smells like_? Christ, woman, you expect me to believe that you don’t have a thing for her? You practically trip over yourself every time you so much as _mention_ her.”

Embarrassment prickled over Waverly’s skin. “First of all, I do not. Second of all, Nicole does, in fact, smell nice, and that is _just a fact_. Third of all, I…” She threw her hands up and stormed behind the counter to gather the day’s cash. “Okay, fine, sure, I like Nicole, who cares? I certainly don’t.”

“There are so many things incorrect about that statement, but all I’ll say is… why not just ask her out?”

“Because she doesn’t feel the same way about me,” Waverly said. She swallowed again and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s really that simple, okay? I don’t want to wreck the friendship we have by asking her out and getting turned down.”

“You don’t know she doesn’t feel the same until you ask,” Chrissy pointed out, her voice soft.

“I know,” Waverly murmured. “But I can’t risk it. It’s been getting harder and harder the past few weeks. I don’t know why. It just is. But I… I like her _too much_ to risk finding out that she _doesn’t_ like me that way. Do you understand?”

“I do. But I think you might be making a mistake.” Chrissy smiled slightly. “You should give yourself a bit more credit, Waverly Earp. You might be surprised by what you find.”

 

+++++

 

Nicole pulled off her field jacket as she rushed into the PI office, tossing it at the coat rack and missing it completely.

Doc, who had lingered in the building to finish up paperwork, watched from his personal office and sighed. “What did you do?” he called.

She didn’t answer, pushing into her own office.

“Oh boy,” Doc muttered. He stood and followed her, putting her jacket where it belonged on the way.

Nicole was pacing in her office, mumbling under her breath and rubbing her hands together.

“What are you-”

“She smells like gun oil and cedar.”

Doc blinked. “Huh?”

“Waverly smells like gun oil and cedar. How have I never noticed that before?”

“Do I want to know how you noticed it _now_?”

Nicole ignored him completely, still pacing. “I have no idea how I didn’t just kiss her. Holy hell. I mean. I just. She was _touching me places_ , and I… holy _hell_ , Doc, I…”

She trailed off as she noticed his eyes widen and his mustache twitch slightly.

“Oh, God, no, no no, _not like that, Doc_.”

“Darlin’, that is an _entirely_ different problem,” he teased, grinning.

“It was an _accident_ , she _knocked me over_ , there was _incidental touching_ , do _not make me punch you, Junior_.”

Doc’s grin vanished. “Don’t call me Junior. I am not a Junior. My father is John _Michael_ Holliday. _I am not a Junior_.”

“And Waverly Earp didn’t feel me up, or whatever the hell your mind is thinking.”

“Shame. You would’ve liked it.”

“Christ,” Nicole muttered. She leaned against her desk and ran a hand over her face. “I don’t know what to do. I can barely keep myself sane when I’m around her, Doc. It’s like I’m a pile of brush in the middle of the woods, and she’s the dropped cigarette that’s going to ignite a forest fire and burn me to ashes.”

“You never were very poetic.” Doc put a hand on her shoulder. “Nicky. You like the girl. Do something about it.”

“I can’t, Doc. I just can’t do it.” Her voice softened. “I’m too afraid to.”

“You’re one of the bravest people I know, and you’re _afraid_ to talk to a pretty girl? Man, I did not raise you right.”

Nicole punched his arm lightly. “I can be so close to her, the way things are now. I can be with her. Maybe not the way I’d like. But I can _enjoy her presence_. That’s enough. I can live with that, if I have to. For the rest of my _life_ if I have to.”

“So you say.” Doc patted her cheek softly and turned to head back to his office. “But ask yourself sometime, Nicky, whether you might actually deserve _more_ than that.”

He left her in the room, still rubbing her hands together, mumbling under her breath about gun oil and cedar.


	4. your drug is a heartbreaker

**_September 9, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

Wynonna was already in her Beckham Jr. jersey when she swung open the front door of the main house on the Earp estate to let Nicole in.

“Hey, sorry I’m la-.”

“If Norman doesn’t get the fuck off of Beckham’s ass, I’m going to go down to East Rutherford myself and beat the shit out of him.”

Nicole blinked. “Uhm…”

“I hate the goddamn Redskins,” Wynonna snarled before storming back into the house.

“Oh, hell.” Nicole followed Wynonna into the living room, where Doc and Nedley were sitting in opposite armchairs and Chrissy and Waverly were on the couch. “If I had known it was a Redskins game I would’ve brought alcohol.”

Doc handed her a beer. “Giants are down 13-28. It hasn’t been a good time.”

Nicole sighed and shook her head, opening the beer with her keychain.

“Just sit down, Nic.” Wynonna glanced at Chrissy and raised an eyebrow.

Chrissy shifted over, away from Waverly, and then stood up. “Daddy, do you want another slice of pizza?”

“Sure, sweetheart, thanks.”

Once Chrissy had headed into the kitchen, Wynonna shoved Nicole onto the couch next to Waverly. “I’ll get you food. It’ll give me an excuse to get away from this fucking game.”

Wynonna stalked off towards the kitchen, muttering under her breath.

 

+++++

 

“You’re very subtle,” Chrissy commented as she got new slices of pizza for herself and her father before putting one on a plate for Nicole and handing it to Wynonna. “But I don’t think it’ll work, Wyn.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to shove them at each other until they stop being stupid.” Wynonna grabbed a few more beers out of the fridge. “It’s the best way to handle it.”

Chrissy raised an eyebrow. “Uhm… sure.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not at all.”

Wynonna snorted. “Fine. Doubt me.”

Chrissy laughed and headed back into the living room. “Oh, I will.”

 

+++++

 

Waverly stared straight ahead at the television screen, trying not to notice how close Nicole was sitting.

A part of her wished she could move over, or ask Nicole to move. She couldn’t. Because it would be rude, because she was already as far against the couch as she could get, because she didn’t _want_ Nicole to move.

Gunpowder and pine. Goddammit.

“So, uhm, did I miss any good plays?” Nicole asked, fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat.

“Not unless by ‘good’ you actually mean ‘cheating crap’,” Wynonna grumbled as she walked back into the room and handed Nicole her pizza. “ _For fuck’s sake, where is the flag on that? He was practically groping him!_ ”

“Wynonna’s having fun,” Doc said.

“Fuck off.” Wynonna sat down in Doc’s lap, tossing her legs over the arm of the chair and glaring at the television as she took a sip of beer.

Waverly cleared her throat and shifted just a tiny bit away from Nicole as Chrissy joined them on the couch. “So, Nicole, did you ever get those parts for your rifle?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, thanks, Waverly. I stopped in earlier. You were out.”

“Lunch break,” Chrissy added. “It’s too bad you weren’t in, Wave. You could’ve… helped.”

Waverly glared at her friend behind Nicole’s back, but to her surprise Nicole didn’t react at all. She took another sip of beer, swallowed a piece of pizza, and said, “I had to time it around reporting back to one of my clients. Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Waverly said quickly. She studied Nicole for a moment, confused by the blank look on her face that easily shifted to amusement only when Wynonna and Doc teased her.

When she finally turned her attention back to her pizza and the game, she hadn’t even noticed Chrissy watching her.

 

+++++

 

**_September 10, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

“What do we got?”

Wynonna ducked under the crime scene tape and found Nedley where he was standing next to the dumpster. She held out a styrofoam cup with steam still curling up through the lid.

Even the normally gruff Nedley couldn’t hide his enthusiasm at the fresh coffee. “Looks like you’re good for something after all,” he deadpanned and Wynonna flipped him off while taking a sip of her own. “Female. Early twenties.”

“This looking like another related case?” she asked with a frown.

“Not that I can tell so far,” Nedley answered, scratching at the scruff on his chin. “She doesn’t appear to be carved up. Not been here long myself, though.”

“I’d put time of death somewhere between midnight and three a.m.”

Wynonna jumped, sloshing coffee down the front of her leather jacket. “Dude!” she shouted, spinning around to find a slight man with salt and pepper hair standing not two feet behind her. “This is a crime scene. Wear a bell or something, okay?”

Dr. Reginald Dugald, better known as Dr. Reggie, took a startled step back. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, pulling a Twizzler out of one of the pockets of his Medical Examiner’s windbreaker. “The dead never seem to mind.”

He gave a quirky grin as he nibbled on the end of his candy, but neither Nedley nor Wynonna seemed particularly amused by his attempt at humor.

“Geez. Tough room,” he grumbled. “Anyway. As I was saying. She’s been dead four to seven hours. I’ll have to run some tests, but preliminary cause of death is respiratory failure secondary to pulmonary edema. Looks like a possible overdose.”

“You mean I dragged my ass all the way out here at the ass crack of dawn for an accidental OD?” Wynonna groaned and Nedley rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, Doc. We’ll check back in after you finish your tests.” Nedley nodded at Dr. Reggie, who gave him a mock salute and shuffled back over to the Coroner van parked at the end of the alley.

Wynonna stepped around the corner of the dumpster to do a quick examination of the centerpiece of the scene. Nedley slid his notepad back into his pocket and leaned to look over her shoulder. They still had to treat it like a suspicious death until it was confirmed to be an accident.

“Shit,” Wynonna muttered under her breath. Snapping a latex glove on her hand she reached out to push the dark hair out of the dead girl’s face. “Isn’t that…?”

“You know her?” Nedley asked, moving past her to find a better vantage point.

“I think she’s…” she chewed on her lip for a moment, trying to recall why the face seemed familiar. “Joyce something. She’s a _working girl_ down by the warehouse district. Was a witness in a stabbing I had down there last year.”

Nedley crouched next her, taking in the young brunette with the blue lips and the discolored foam around her mouth. “Christ. She can’t be any older than Chrissy and Waverly,” he lamented, shaking his head.

“Arbour,” Wynonna snapped her fingers suddenly. “Her name is Joyce Arbour.” Something caught her eye and she leaned closer to the victim’s torso, running a finger along the inside of her low-cut sequined tank top.

Her partner shot her a questioning look to which she rolled her eyes and withdrew her hand, pulling a small plastic baggie out of Joyce’s bra. Holding it up closer, the two of them squinted at it in confusion.

The plastic was stamped with a pair of crossed machetes, and small crystals of a strange yellowish orange substance glinted in the light of the morning sun. The rocks were too small to be crystal methamphetamine, but not fine enough to be heroin or cocaine.

“You ever seen anything like this?” Wynonna questioned, handing it over for Nedley to take a closer look.

“ _Orange_ crystals? No, that’s definitely new to me.”

“Well, fuck. Just what we need. A new killer and _more_ dead bodies.” Wynonna took it back and dropped it onto an evidence bag, sealing it and pulling her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll give Valdez a call. Maybe she knows what this shit is.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Nedley grunted as he stood slowly, several body parts popping and cracking along the way.

Wynonna laughed as she joined him near the crime scene tape again. “Come on, old man. Let’s go get some breakfast. I could murder a stack of pancakes.”

 

+++++

 

**_September 13, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

The dinner rush of The Dog House buzzed all around SFC Dolls, but it didn’t seem to faze him much as he picked aimlessly at his salad. It had been a week since he had confided in Haught and Holliday, and even though they had kept in touch with him, they hadn’t found anything yet.

As he sat spinning his glass of water idly on the bar top in front of him, he began to wonder if his suspicions had been misguided.

The background noise suddenly faded, and even in his distracted state, Dolls couldn’t miss the change in atmosphere. Glancing around, it didn’t take him long to find the reason for the abrupt silence.

An imposing figure stood in the doorway, eliciting a round of salutes from the clusters of enlisted soldiers spread around the room. Letting his eyes fall quickly back to his dinner, Dolls tensed on his barstool, spearing a forkful of lettuce forcefully while pretending he hadn’t noticed the source of the interruption.

The quiet murmur of conversations slowly grew around him once more as he chewed a mouthful of salad mechanically, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the water glass in front of him.

“Well now, Sergeant. Is that any way to greet a superior officer?” a mocking voice asked from just behind Dolls. The muscles of his jaw twitched momentarily before he hopped off of his stool and snapped to attention.

“Apologies, Lieutenant Colonel Del Ray, _sir_ ,” he answered, holding his salute rigidly. “I didn’t see you come in.”

The man snorted, running his fingers over the silver oak leaf on his shoulder before finally raising his arm in a lazy return salute. “Of course you didn’t,” he smirked, dropping his cover on the countertop. “Please. Join me,” he said, gesturing to the barstool Dolls had been occupying as he settled onto the one next to it.

Dolls shot a look around the bar, noticing that several pairs of eyes were on them at the moment. He climbed stiffly back onto his stool and turned to face Lt. Col. Del Ray.

“What brings the Provost Marshal to the NCO Club?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “The Officer’s Club charging a cover fee now?”

“Funny, Sergeant,” Del Ray replied dryly. “I’m actually here to see _you_ ,” he added, his voice turning serious.

Dolls shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Sir, if this is about what I—“

“It is,” Del Ray cut him off. Dolls opened his mouth to speak again, but the Lt. Colonel held his hand up before he could. “I wanted to apologize for our little… _misunderstanding_ last week.”

Dolls was acutely aware that they had quite the audience now. Judging by the glint in Del Ray’s eyes, he was banking on exactly the same thing.

“Sir…” Dolls began, choosing his words carefully. “It was my mistake. I shouldn’t have made an accusation without any proof.” He saw the officer’s nostrils flare at this, and Dolls quickly added. “I was only on temporary assignment. It wasn’t my place to question the established routine.”

“No, no,” Del Ray replied loudly. “You were right. I thought you should know I have decided to look into this little matter _personally_. You can rest assured I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

The crowd of enlisted personnel standing witness to the exchange seemed collectively awed by such a powerful officer as the Provost Marshal admitting he was wrong to a Sergeant First Class. In a setting such as the NCO Club, nonetheless.

But Dolls could hear the patronizing tone underlying the exaggerated display of humility loud and clear. The instinct in his gut could see this for what it was, but he knew now was neither the time nor the place to cause a scene.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. I sincerely appreciate your honesty,” he said in the same elevated tone as he stuck out his hand in a very visible peace offering.

Del Ray eyed him for a moment as he ran his hand roughly over the wide strip of thick, black hair running down the center of his otherwise shaved head. A slow grin crept over his features when he finally took the extended hand, gripping it slightly tighter than was necessary.

“It’s the right thing to do,” the Provost Marshal answered, his voice thick with smugness as they shook hands roughly a couple of times. He slid off of his stool and gathered up his cover, tucking it under his arm.

Dolls stood again, jerking back to attention. “ _Sir_ ,” he said, executing another flawless salute.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, _Sergeant_ ,” Del Ray said ominously, snapping his jaw shut so forcefully his teeth clacked together. Releasing Dolls with a half-hearted salute, he spun sharply on his heel and exited The Dog House.

Dolls slapped a few bills on the countertop, dropping any further pretense of trying to finish his dinner. As he left the NCO Club feeling the stares of his fellow enlisted soldiers boring into his back, he knew one thing for certain.

His suspicions had certainly _not_ been misguided.


	5. let the bodies hit the floor

**_September 13, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

_ BONEKEEPER:  _ (16:23:12) You have something for me?

_ AFISH: _ (16:24:03) Maybe.

_ BONEKEEPER: _ (16:24:20) Your phone will be upgraded once it’s eligible, and you’ll be issued more minutes for your spare.

_ AFISH: _ (16:24:23) Just keeping you on your toes, boss.

_ AFISH:  _ (16:24:28) Hear anything about a dead body earlier this week?

_ BONEKEEPER: _ (16:24:30) More specific.

_ AFISH: _ (16:24:36) Overdose.

_ BONEKEEPER: _ (16:24:42) The death I asked about? The new drug?

_ AFISH: _ (16:24:43) Yes.

_ BONEKEEPER: _ (16:24:45) What did you find? Do you know what it is?

_ AFISH: _ (16:24:52) Called Ammolite. New party drug on the market. Peddled by the Machetes, though I wouldn’t put that on your blog.

_ BONEKEEPER: _ (16:24:54) Why not?

_ AFISH: _ (16:25:01) Because they’ll kill you.

_ BONEKEEPER: _ (16:25:04) You know me, Fish. I don’t scare easy.

_ AFISH: _ (16:25:07) If you say so.

_ AFISH: _ (16:25:09) Just be careful. We all actually like you.

_ BONEKEEPER: _ (16:25:11) I’ll keep that in mind.

_ BONEKEEPER: _ (16:25:13) Thank you.

_ 16:25:14 BONEKEEPER has signed off. _

_ 16:25:17 AFISH has signed off. _

 

+++++

 

**_September 14, 2018 - Homestead, MA_ **

 

“Are you believing this shit?”

Wynonna leaned forward in her chair, her eyes scanning the computer screen as she continued to curse under her breath.

“What’s the matter?  Nicole finally send you some proof of that  _ mustache _ of yours two-timing you?”

She rolled her eyes at Nedley over the screen.  “We’re not dating,  _ Gramps _ .”  He glared at her.  “Besides.  He’s a good guy.  You should cut him a break already.”

Nedley’s eye twitched, but he remained silent while Wynonna clicked her mouse with fury.  “You know it doesn’t matter how hard you click that thing.  The person on the other end is never gonna feel it.”  When Wynonna continued to ignore him, his curiosity got the best of him.  “What’s got you so worked up, anyway?”

“I’m still waiting to hear back from Valdez about that mystery drug we found on the OD earlier this week.”

“Yeah…”  Nedley’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “I’m sure she’ll call you as soon as she has something, Earp.”

Wynonna waved her hand in dismissal.  “Yeah, I already talked to her last night.  She’s just waiting for one of her sources to get back to her.”

“Okay, so…  What’s the problem then?”

“This goddamn  _ Keeper of the Bones _ ,” she said, slumping back in her chair with frustration.

“What?  He’s already running a story on it?”  Nedley was out of his chair and around to Wynonna’s desk before she could even lean forward again to click open the next window.

“ _ Police are baffled by the appearance of a new party drug that’s flooding the streets of Homestead.  Easily recognized by its signature orange tint, clubbers and party-goers have named Ammolite their new drug of choice thanks to the potent high it delivers with a short turnaround _ .”

Wynonna stopped reading from the article and glanced up over her shoulder at Nedley.  “Ammolite.  What kinda street name is  _ that? _ ”

Nedley shook his head.  “I’ve never heard anything like it before.”  He tipped his chin up at the screen.  “He say anything else about it?”

“Not really.  The rest of the post goes on to discuss the club circuit and  _ other  _ types of nightlife activities where this shit is turning up.  Pretty standard stuff.”

“Ammolite,” Nedley mumbled again to himself.  “What will they come up with next?”

“New drugs turn up all the time,” Wynonna said as she leaned back in her chair, absentmindedly twirling a rubber band around her fingers.  “What I want to know is where this bastard gets all of his information.  Feels like he’s always one step ahead of us.”

“Maybe we should track him down,” Nedley chuckled, returning to his own desk.  “Give him a job.”

Wynonna sighed, picking up her pen and flipping through the stack of paperwork in front of her.

“More like give him a piece of my mind,” she muttered as she began to fill out one of the reports.

 

+++++

 

**_September 17, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

  
  


“ _ Another _ one, Randy.  There’s  _ no way _ these aren’t related.”

“I know.  I  _ know _ .  But we gotta keep it down, or Captain Cryderman will be on our asses again.”

Wynonna sighed with frustration as she jabbed the button in the elevator of the 27 th Precinct. 

“Okay,” she said and ran a hand through her dark hair, pausing for a moment before raking it the rest of the way through.  “Okay,” she repeated.  “So how does a young rich kid end up in a gutter in the warehouse district with his throat cut?”

“Sex.  Drugs.  Or money,” Nedley answered, ticking off his fingers as he went.  “It’s always sex, drugs, or money.  Or any combination of the three.”

“Fair point,” Wynonna agreed, digging her notebook out of the pocket of her jacket.  “Evans, Zachary R.  He had a dependent Military ID, with an address somewhere on Fort Wainwright,” she said as they stepped off the elevator.

“We should call Nicole and get the number to the Visitor’s Center,” Nedley suggested.  “Get in contact with the base directory.  Find out who he belongs to.”

Wynonna nodded at him and then stopped abruptly in her tracks when she looked up.

Sitting in her chair was a short woman with dark hair and bronze skin, her motorcycle boot-clad feet propped up on Wynonna’s desk.  A colorful snake tattoo began at her right wrist and curled up her forearm toward her elbow, disappearing under the sleeve of her t-shirt.

“Earp!”

“Valdez.”  Wynonna grinned and rested against the edge of her desk.  “Make yourself at home.”

Det. Itzel Valdez leaned further back in the chair.  “Gotta enjoy it while I can.  Been trying to talk the narco captain into getting some of these chairs for our bullpen, but we apparently don’t rate as high as you homicide jerks.”

Nedley settled into his own chair, looking rather smug.  “They  _ are _ quite nice, aren’t they?”  Valdez threw Wynonna’s stress ball at him.  He dodged it easily with a chuckle.  “How you doing, Izzy?”

“Up to my ears in trouble.  Just like always,” she laughed, leaning forward to grab a file sitting next to her feet.  “Finally heard from Levi last night,” she said, handing the folder Wynonna.  “This is everything I have on your new drug.”

“Ammolite,” Wynonna nodded as she flipped the file open.

“How’d you…?”

“Damn blogger struck again.  Had an article posted about it before the weekend.”

“So you already know all of this?  I coulda saved a trip.”  Valdez folded her arms across her chest.

“No,” Nedley shook his head.  “It was mostly about the kinds of places it’s showing up.  But he did have the name.  Do you know what it is?  Or where it comes from?”

Wynonna sat the file down, choosing to listen to Valdez’s account of the information instead.

“We can’t seem to find a reason for the Ammolite name,” Valdez began, picking the folder back up herself, “but it’s the new designer party drug.  Experimental formula consisting of heroin and MDMA.  Similar to the old H-bombs.  But those were tabs, and this stuff is in the pure crystal form.  Most of the kids are shooting it.”

“Jesus.  Heroin  _ and _ molly?”  Wynonna dragged a chair over from a nearby empty desk and straddled it backwards.  “That’s one hell of a party drug.”

“You’re not kidding,” Valdez continued.  “The high hits quick, and it’s  _ intense _ .  It’s fairly pure, by street standards.  It’s high quality shit, and addictive as hell.”

“Any idea where it’s coming from?” Nedley asked, scribbling notes on his legal pad.

“No idea.  I don’t think we’ve ever seen this quality of heroin in Homestead before,” Valdez sighed, clearly frustrated.  Then she snapped her fingers suddenly.  “I  _ can _ tell you that it seems to be coming from a new organization that’s popping up all over.”

“There’s a new gang in town?”  Wynonna frowned.  “I haven’t heard of any gang wars recently.  You’d think we’d have a pile of bodies riddled with cop killers if something like that was going down.”

“No,” Valdez shook her head.  “It doesn’t seem to be a  _ gang _ , per se.  More like a cartel.  These guys aren’t dealing on a street corner.  From what we can tell, they’re more focused on pushing their product through the clubs themselves.  Which makes me think they’re running this more like a business than a street operation.”

Nedley absentmindedly scratched at his chin.  “These guys got name?”

“Levi tells me they call themselves The Machetes.”

“Guess that explains the logo on the baggie we found last week.”  Wynonna drummed her fingers on the back of the chair she was straddling.

“Yeah, they’re marking all of their product,” Valdez confirmed.  “Looks like they’re more concerned with circulation than having it linked back to them.  Whoever is behind this has a serious set of cojones.”

“Nice.”  Wynonna wrinkled her nose.

Valdez shrugged.  “You asked.”

“Well, Dr. Reggie confirmed Joyce Arbour was an accidental overdose,” Wynonna said, resting her chin on her hand.  “But if this shit is flooding the streets, I’m sure we’ll be seeing it pop up with bodies all over.  Thanks for the info,” she said tipping her chin up at the other detective.

“Any time,” Valdez said, dropping her feet and pushing herself up out of Wynonna’s chair.  “I love having you guys owing me favors.”  She stuck her hand out to shake as Wynonna stood, too.

“No way I’m shaking the hand of someone wearing a Wyoming Cavalry t-shirt,” Wynonna snorted, crossing her arms.

“What the hell, Earp?  Aren’t you a football fan, too?  The Cavalry is my  _ team _ .”

“Anyone who considers  _ arena football _ to be a  _ real _ sport is a disgrace to sports fans everywhere.”  Wynonna held her hand up in front of her, palm out, as though dismissing the other woman.

Valdez slapped it, effectively giving her a high five.  “Thanks, Earp.  I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Wait…  That’s not…  I wasn’t…” Wynonna stuttered, drawing her hand back as if it had been burned.

Valdez just smirked while Nedley laughed at the disgusted look on Wynonna’s face.

“Get outta here, Valdez,” Wynonna grumbled.  “Back to narcotics with you.  Be gone!”

“Just remember.  You owe me now,” Valdez chuckled as she headed for the elevators.

Nedley raised his eyebrow at Wynonna and she rolled her eyes.  “Thanks, Izzy,” she called after the retreating detective.

Valdez just waved over her shoulder without even turning around.

Wynonna sank down into her own chair and slid the file on the Ammolite into her desk drawer.  Nedley handed her a fresh mug of coffee from the nearby machine and she sipped it wearily as she looked up at him.

“Designer drugs and mysterious cartels and a bunch of linked murders.  What has this city gotten itself into?”

 

+++++

 

“License and registration.”

“Well, this feels like an ironic twist,” Wynonna deadpanned as she dug through the glove box of Nedley’s department issued sedan.

Finding the paperwork she was searching for, she passed it and her badge to Nedley, who handed them over with his own to the soldier at his window.  He passed the registration off to his partner, a burly man with the edges of a shaved head visible beneath his BDU cap. 

“Run this, John,” he said and then leaned down to look in Nedley’s window.  His sandy colored hair stuck out of his cap at odd angles, just barely complying with the regulation to keep it above the ears and neckline.  From this position, they could see he wore a single chevron and rocker stripe on his sleeve, indicating he was a Private First Class.

“These don’t mean anything here,” he smirked, tossing the gold shields back at each of them.  “I’ll need to see a government issued ID.  Preferably a driver’s license.”

Wynonna and Nedley shared a look as she dug her wallet out of the back pocket of her jeans and he slid his from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.  The soldier took their IDs back to the guard booth and Wynonna let her head fall back against the headrest of her seat. 

“I hope this isn’t a sign of how things are about to go.  I hate dealing with soldier boys.   _ Especially _ MPs,” she added, eyeing the armbands both of the guards wore on their left arms.

“You don’t have any problems being friends with Nicole,” Nedley pointed out.

“Haught’s different.” Wynonna rolled her eyes.  “She’s a soldier, but she’s not a  _ soldier _ .”

Nedley snorted.  “You’d better not let  _ her _ hear you say that.”

Both of the MPs were back, one on each side of the car, before she could reply.  The bald one, PFC McCoy, she could see from his name tape, handed Wynonna her driver’s license through the passenger side window.  The other one leaned back down in Nedley’s face again.

“And what’s your business here at Fort Wainwright today, detectives?” he asked, dropping Nedley’s ID into his lap.

“Well,” Nedley cleared his throat as he squinted at the soldier’s name tape while he retrieved his license and returned it to his wallet, “Private Junger, we called ahead to the Visitor’s Center.  We need to speak with a Major Charles Evans.  Can you tell us how to find the Logistics building?”

PFC Junger glanced over the top of the car at his partner before returning his attention to Nedley, his lip curling into a smug grin.

“Of course.  Follow this main road to the third set of lights and turn left.  The Center for Logistics is two blocks farther down, on the right.”

“Thank you, Private,” Nedley said with a nod of his head.

“Yes.  Thank you,  _ Private _ ,” Wynonna added, making a ridiculous face at PFC McCoy.  She noticed a large tattoo of a skull with flaming red eyes and the number 77 in a banner beneath it on his left bicep, sticking out from under the roll-cuff of his sleeve, just below the MP band. 

As the two MPs shuffled back into the booth, Wynonna saw an identical tattoo on the other guard and made a mental note to ask Nicole about it.  The heavy, mechanical arm slowly lifted in front of them, and after giving Wynonna a look, Nedley pulled the car through.

“What the hell, Carl?” John asked with confusion once the unmarked vehicle was past the barrier.  “That’s nowhere near the Center of Logistics.  Why would you send them to the Sanitation Department?”

“Because, John,” Carl answered with a smirk.  “That will buy us a little time.  Bobo’s gonna wanna know that there’s cops poking around on the base.”

“Oh.  Good call,” John replied with a nod.

Carl fished out the walkie they kept in the bottom drawer of the desk.

“Boss, this is the front gate.  We got a problem.”

 

+++++

 

“What the  _ fuck? _ ”

“Calm down.  I’m sure it’s just a prank they play on any visiting cops.”

“What the  _ actual _ fuck?  Such a waste of goddamn time.”

“Wynonna,” Nedley warned, his voice low.  “Remember why we’re here.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose while the muscles in her jaw flexed.  “I know,” she sighed.  “I just…  I  _ hate _ doing death notifications.  And being sent to the fucking  _ Trash _ Department, or  _ whatever _ the hell it is, just for those jackasses to get a laugh is not helping.”

“Well, we’re here now,” he said, reaching across the console to slap her knee.  “So pull it together, Earp.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but climbed out of the car and straightened her shirt and ever-present leather jacket.  Nedley joined her around the front of the car, buttoning his suit coat as they approached the concrete and glass building sprawled before them.

A young man in standard fatigues was sitting behind a desk, looking up at them with close-cropped hair and bright eyes.

“Can I help you?” he asked politely, his head tilting to the side with curiosity at the sight of the mismatched pair that had just wandered into his lobby.

“We’re with Homestead PD,” Wynonna said, flashing her badge.  “We need to speak with a Major Charles Evans.  The Visitor Center suggested we might find him here?”

The young man, a Corporal Yates based on the double chevrons and name tape on his uniform, frowned and punched a few buttons on his desk phone, activating the intercom.  “Sir, a couple of detectives are here to see you.”

“ _ CID? _ ” a booming voice asked.

“Negative, sir.  Civilians.  Homestead PD.”  They could hear rustling through the speaker.

“ _ Show them to the conference room _ ,” the reply finally came.

“Yes, sir,” Corporal Yates answered, but the intercom line had already gone dead.  He stood and opened a door to the left of his desk.  “If you’ll come with me, ma’am?  Sir?”

Wynonna and Nedley fell in behind him and followed him through a long, drab hallway to a large room covered in floor to ceiling windows on one side.  A long, wooden table took up the majority of the space, surrounded by several chairs, and various screens and boards hung on the three remaining walls.

“Major Evans will be with you shortly,” he nodded and then backed out of the room, leaving them alone.

“This could be interesting if the man is anything like the building,” Wynonna scoffed, running a finger along a smooth, concrete wall.

“It’s his son, Wynonna,” Nedley said, his years showing on his face more prominently than usual.  “It will matter.”

A few minutes later, a large man, tall and broad with short, greying hair, strode into the room.  He stood erect, his stance wide and his hands clasped behind his back.

“Major Evans?” Wynonna asked, turning from a large map she had been examining and moving to stand next to her partner.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice strong and confident.  “How can I be of service to the Homestead PD?”

“I’m Detective Nedley and this is Detective Earp, sir.”  Nedley stuck his hand out, and Major Evans shook it firmly before stepping forward to shake Wynonna’s, as well.  “We need to speak with you about your son, Zachary,” Nedley continued.

The Major’s eye twitched slightly.  “Whatever he’s done this time, I’m not bailing him out,” he said firmly.  “The boy could learn from a few nights in jail.”

“Sir…” Wynonna started.  “You might want to sit down.”

“Just tell me,” he said, shaking his head.  “What kind of trouble has he caused now?”

“Major Evans,” Nedley began, his voice softer now, “we found Zachary’s body this morning.  I’m sorry to tell you, but…  he’s dead.”

The soldier’s nostrils flared and his shoulders sagged.  After a moment of tense silence, he finally spoke again.

“I knew his partying would catch up to him one day.”  His voice was laced with weary resignation.  “How did it happen?  Overdose?  Accident?”  He lowered his eyes.  “Did he hurt anyone else in the process?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Nedley gently continued.  “But, it wasn’t an accident.  Your son was murdered.”

“What?”  The Major’s eyes grew wide, his stoic front faltering for the first time.  “How?  Where?”

“We found him in the warehouse district, sir.  His…”  Wynonna cleared her throat awkwardly.  “His throat had been cut.”

The air rushed out of his lungs as he leaned forward to brace a hand on the nearby table.  Nedley put out a hand to steady the reeling man.

“Do you know why he might have been down there?”  Wynonna asked carefully.  “Do you know of anyone that might have wanted to hurt him?”

“That’s quite enough of that.”

The three of them visibly jumped at the sudden addition of another voice.  Marching in the doorway was a tall man with a thick black stripe of hair down the center of his head and a twisted smirk.

“Lieutenant Colonel Del Ray, sir.”  Major Evans immediately snapped to attention, holding a textbook salute despite his current emotional state.

“At ease, Major,” the man said smoothly, releasing him with a quick return salute.  “And what do a couple of civilian detectives think they are doing questioning an officer on this base?  You have no jurisdiction here.”

“We’re not here to question him, sir,” Wynonna bristled.  “We needed to deliver some news about his son.”

“I don’t care why you’re here,” he waved a hand dismissively.  “As the Provost Marshal of Fort Wainwright, I’m here to tell you that Major Evans will not be answering any more of your questions today.”

“If we could just—“

“That will be all,” Del Ray cut Nedley off.  “I trust you remember your way off the base?  In case you don’t, a couple of my MPs will be providing you an escort,” he said with a wicked grin.

Over his shoulder, Wynonna could see two rough looking soldiers lingering in the hallway – Corporals Ramaker, with a grizzled face and a scruffy mustache, and Sturgiss, short and wiry with darting eyes and fidgety motions – both bearing the MP armband and the same skull tattoo as the gate guards.  She looked over at Nedley who was glancing back and forth between Major Evans and LTC Del Ray with narrowed eyes.

The Major looked far more like a father in shock at that moment than a high ranking officer.  And while the Lieutenant Colonol seemed to be quite pleased with himself over interrupting their interview, it didn’t appear that Major Evans had anything to do with his arrival.

“Let’s move it along, detectives,” the Provost Marshal prompted again, his voice steely, clearly unimpressed with their failure to comply already.  “Or do I need to place a call to your superior?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Nedley said through gritted teeth.  “We’ll be on our way.”  He shot Wynonna a look when she started to balk, and she closed her mouth again, deciding not to press the issue at the moment.

Soon, they were climbing back into the sedan, the two MPs pulling alongside them in a pair of olive green Jeeps.  They waited for Nedley to back out into the parking lot, and then bracketed him, one in front and one behind.  The ride back to the front gate was much quicker this time without all of the unnecessary detours, and soon the detectives were back in civilian territory, on the main road heading into the heart of the city.

“What the hell was  _ that _ all about?” Wynonna wondered absently, staring out the passenger window while Nedley drove.

“I don’t know,” he answered uneasily.  “But something doesn’t feel right.”

 

+++++

 

**_September 22, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

It wasn’t the first time Waverly Earp had ever cursed her lack of height, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But with the day she was already having, it somehow felt like being short was just the universe trying to spite her.

She gripped the metal bar of the display rack tightly with one hand, this time pushing up onto her toes as she tried again to return the box of 9mm round to its place on the top shelf. And again, she was left teetering just short of her target.

She smelled her before she felt her. The crisp scent of pine, then a warmth against her back, light pressure against her hip, and the weight of the box easily lifting from her fingertips.

Waverly focused on the box as it slid into place, guided by slender fingers. Focused on the long arm dropping and brushing against her shoulder. Focusing on  _ anything but what- who –was behind her. _

“Thank you,” Waverly breathed.

The hand rested on her waist twitched slightly, but the response was still infuriatingly calm. “You’re welcome.”

It was only then that Waverly realized that she had just needed somebody-  _ Nicole _ was still  _ somebody _ –to help her reach a shelf in her own damn shop. With a burst of defensive determination, she spun on her heel, just fast enough that she  _ hoped _ Nicole’s touch would be knocked off of her hip.

_ Of course _ it wasn’t.

It was just that kind of day.

So now she was way too close to Nicole again, breathing the same air as her, looking up into her warm brown eyes, that brain-scrambling pine scent killing any words that had bubbled up to her lips.

Nicole was far too close, and if Waverly had the nerve to shift just a tiny bit upward, to close the height difference  _ just a bit _ …

“I suppose I should be paying for this?”

“Huh?”

Nicole, taking a small step back and pulling an invoice out of the pocket of her jeans, repeated, “I suppose I should be paying for this.”

“You… what?” Waverly blinked rapidly, trying to kick her brain back into gear.

“The parts? The ones you ordered for me?” Nicole quirked her eyebrow. “The… gun parts?”

“… What?”

Nicole chuckled and shook her head. “Did you forget that you texted me? You told me that they were in.”

“I didn’t,” Waverly said, with genuine confusion. When Nicole frowned, a voice in the back of her head briefly panicked over whether or not she  _ did _ and somehow  _ forgot _ .

“No;  _ I _ did.” Chrissy rounded the corner, smirking when she noticed how close they still were to each other.

“S-Sorry. I thought…” Nicole trailed off, taking another small step away from Waverly.

“I didn’t have your number, and Waverly was busy with the Nighthawk rep, so I used her cell.” Chrissy shrugged, a small smirk on her face. “Sorry.”

Waverly narrowed her eyes at her friend and mumbled, “I’ll go get the part from the back, Nic.”

Chrissy held up a hand to stop her. “They’re already at the counter. I saw Nicole come in.”

“Fine,” Waverly said, trying not to speak through gritted teeth. “Let me check you out.”

A smirk  _ nearly _ formed on Nicole’s face, but she seemed to shove it back down to a neutral expression. But it was too late to stop the embarrassed flush that crept up Waverly’s cheeks.

“Ring you up!” she said quickly. “Let me take your  _ payment _ at the  _ cash register _ .”

As they shuffled to the counter, Chrissy followed, still smirking. They completed the transaction without any further conversation, and if Nicole had tried to maintain any sort of eye contact, Waverly had no idea. She kept staring straight down at the counter.

With the box of parts tucked neatly under her arm, Nicole politely excused herself and left the Black Badge Armory. Waverly just stared after her, trying not to breathe in the lingering scents of pine and gunpowder.

“Smooth, Wave,” Chrissy teased. “ _ Real _ smooth.”

“You’re fired,” Waverly retorted.

“You can’t fire me.” Chrissy jerked a thumb towards her chest. “Business partner.”

Waverly shot a rubber band at her, missing by at least two feet. Chrissy just laughed and headed into the back room to continue sorting through the newest deliveries.

She had been right from the start, Waverly noted as she dropped her flushed face onto the counter.

The universe was  _ absolutely _ trying to spite her.

 

+++++

 

**_September 25, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

“You guys up to a little recon?”

Nicole looked up from her laptop, her fingers stalling on the keyboard when Wynonna flopped down in the chair on the other side of her desk.  She glanced over at Doc – who had his feet propped up on Nicole’s desk and his hat drawn low over his face – and rolled her eyes.

“What’s up?” she asked, leaning back in her own chair.

“We’ve hit a brick wall with a case we caught last week,” Wynonna sighed, grabbing the stress ball from Nicole’s desk and squeezing it roughly.

“I’m listening,” Nicole said, prompting her distracted friend.

“You know those ‘random’ murders I told you about a couple of weeks ago?  The ones Nedley and I think are connected?”  Nicole nodded and Wynonna continued.  “We got another one last Monday.  Rich party kid.  Found him face down in the gutter with his throat slit.”

“Okay.  And where do Doc and I come in?” Nicole asked, and as if on cue, as soft snore rumbled from beneath Doc’s hat.

“This kid is the son of an officer from Fort Wainwright.”

Nicole immediately sat back up, dropping the pen she’d been spinning between her fingers.  “Who is it?”

“A Major Charles Evans?”  Wynonna answered, waiting for Nicole’s reaction.  When she didn’t say anything, Wynonna continued.  “Chief Logistics Officer.  Nedley and I spoke with him last week.”

“I don’t know the name,” Nicole shook her head as she stared up at the ceiling, trying to recall any details.  “Was he able to help you at all?”

“That’s just it.”  Wynonna squeezed the ball again violently.  “We had barely finished with the death notification when some dick brass with the MPs barged in and practically threw us out before we could ask any more questions.”

“The Provost Marshal himself showed up?” Nicole frowned when Wynonna nodded.  “Dillinger…   Delacorte…”  She squinted as she tried to remember the Lieutenant Colonel’s name.

“Del Ray.”

Nicole snapped her fingers.  “That’s it.”

“You know him?”  Wynonna raised an eyebrow.

“Shit no,” Nicole wrinkled up her face, offended, and pointed at her frame full of medals.  “Does it look like I had any run-ins with the Military Police during my time at Wainwright?”

Another, louder snore sounded from Doc’s chair.  This one sounded suspiciously like a snort.

“Don’t be a Haught head about it.”  Wynonna launched the stress ball at Nicole, who caught it easily with one hand.  “Oh.  Speaking of the MPs.  I noticed a bunch of them had a weird skull tattoo with a 77 under it.  What does that mean?”

“It’s their unit tat,” Nicole answered.  “The MPs are the 77 th .  It was a skull with flaming red eyes, right?” Wynonna nodded.  “If I remember correctly, they call themselves The Revenants.”

“So it’s like your wolf thing?” Wynonna asked, and Nicole began pushing up the right sleeve of her Henley, exposing ink on the inside of her wrist and a large emblem on her inner forearm.

“Yeah,” Nicole laid her arm across the desk, showing off the shield with the wolf’s head and the stylized numerals.  “I was in the 102 nd .  The Peacemakers.”

“Yours is a lot cooler,” Wynonna mumbled as she leaned forward to look at it closer.  “I never noticed the numbers in the shield before.”

“You been checking out my tattoo often, Wynonna?” Nicole laughed.

“Fuck off, Haught,” Wynonna rolled her eyes.  “What’s with the dots on your wrist, though?”

Nicole ran her finger over the long rectangle with the two black squares that covered the tendons of her wrist.  “It’s my rank bar.  Chief Warrant Officer Two.”

“Why didn’t I know any of this before?”

Nicole shrugged.  “You never asked.”

“Right.  Anyway,” Wynonna cleared her throat, getting back on track.  “Nedley and I tried to go back yesterday to speak to Major Evans again.  We were gonna bring a few of his kid’s personal effects, things that didn’t have to stay in evidence, and also see if we could talk to him again without that jackass around.”

“And?”

“We couldn’t even get back on the base.  Your Marshal whatsit left our names at the gate, barring our entry.”

Nicole’s brow furrowed.  “That’s… odd.”

“Yeah, and that’s not all.  After that, we called the Logistics building directly.  Thought maybe Major Evans would be willing to come down to the precinct to talk with us.”

“He wasn’t cooperative?” Nicole asked, tilting her head.

“I wouldn’t know,” Wynonna shrugged.  “The kid at the desk told me he’d been deployed over the weekend.”

“He  _ what?” _

“Right?  We thought that was rather convenient, too.”  Wynonna was leaning forward in her chair, waving her hand around for emphasis.

“That’s not just convenient,” Nicole shook her head.  “That’s downright suspicious.  Soldiers usually have a few weeks to prepare for deployment.   _ Especially _ an officer holding his kind of rank.”

“Well, if he already knew about it, he didn’t act like it when we saw him last Monday.”  Wynonna sighed.  “Although, to be fair, he might not have been thinking about that after the news we gave him.  Still.  The timing just seems a bit too…” she trailed off and Nicole nodded her head.

“I agree.  So how can we help?”  She shot the still snoring Doc a look.

“Figured that was obvious, Nic,” Wynonna answered and Nicole rolled her eyes.  “Between not being able to get back on base, and also no one down in the warehouse district wanting to talk to the cops, we were hoping you and Henry could poke around a little.”

“What’s the situation down by the docks?” Nicole asked, picking her pen back up and spinning it again.

“We’ve heard of a couple of underground clubs down there.  The kind that move around every weekend.  And also a couple of strip clubs that have become fairly popular in the last year.”

“Gentleman’s clubs?  That sounds like the perfect job for me,” Doc said suddenly, tipping his hat up to peer at Wynonna.  “I’d be happy to frequent these fine establishments.   _ For the case _ , of course.”

This time, it was Nicole’s turn to launch the stress ball, and it knocked Doc’s hat clean off of his head.

“I  _ knew _ you were awake over there, you jackass.”

“I assure you ladies, I do not know what you mean,” he grinned, his mustache twitching. 

Wynonna pushed out of her chair and leaned over to pick up Doc’s hat.  “You’d better keep your hands to yourself while you’re there, Henry,” she said, her voice lower.

“Well now, li’l lady,” he winked, dropping his feet from Nicole’s desk.  “That’s easier said than done,” he said, reaching out and laying a hand on Wynonna’s hip.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you two,” Nicole groaned.  “Get a room already.”

Wynonna snorted as she dropped Doc’s hat on his chest and patted his cheek a bit more roughly than was necessary.

“Like you’ve got any room to talk, Nicole.”

“W-what?” Nicole stammered, her eyes growing wide.  “I…  Umm… I don’t know w-what you m-mean.”

“Oh, nothing,” came Wynonna’s sing-song reply, followed by a laugh.

“S-so…  Umm...”  Nicole cleared her throat, trying to ignore the blush rising in her cheeks.  “So, I’m gonna drop in on one of my buddies at the base during my next monthly visit to the BX and Commissary.  And Doc is gonna sniff around the underground club scene.”  Despite trying to play it cool, she was still fidgeting with her pen.

“That’s the plan, Haught.”  Wynonna dropped into Doc’s lap and smirked at her.

Nicole rolled her eyes and got up, grabbing her field jacket from the rack.  “I guess I’m going out for a while,” she said dryly.  “Ruthie and I could use some coffee.”

Doc waved at her over Wynonna’s shoulder, his blue eyes twinkling.

“You’d better at least go back to your own goddamn office,” Nicole muttered and flipped him off as she headed for the door.  Pausing in the doorway, she turned back with a smug grin.

“Just remember.  I’ve got cameras around here that even Doc doesn’t know about.”

With that, she strode into the reception area, signaling for Ruthie to join her.  The last thing she heard as they walked out the front door was Doc’s choked voice calling after her.

“Wait…  _ what?” _


	6. lost souls in revelry

**_September 27, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

_ “Lightweight, anodized aircraft-grade aluminum, water-resistant body design _ .”

The Mag-Lite Nicole kept in her Jeep may be capable, reliable, and durable, but lightweight and convenient it was not.  She picked up the Nebo O2 Beam, deciding the compact flashlight would be far more conducive to her everyday investigative work.  The clunky Mag-Lite would just have to be relegated to camping and roadside emergencies.

Showing her Military ID at the counter, Nicole completed the transaction and tucked her purchase into the pocket of her field jacket as she exited the Base Exchange.  Her next stop was the Commissary, just across the parking lot.  Colt – her Russian Blue kitten named for her sleek, gunmetal blue coat – needed food and litter, and it was time to restock the bucket of pens Nicole kept at the office.  Her habitual need to spin, drum, and otherwise fidget with her writing utensils had led to the clerks knowing her by name thanks to her monthly office supply purchases.

With everything packed neatly into the cargo hold of her yellow Rubicon, Nicole followed the familiar route to the Signal Corps Terminal.  She hoped that one of her old buddies might be able to help her out with information regarding the suspicions SFC Dolls had raised, and she wanted to look into the roadblock that Wynonna and Nedley had been met with a couple of days ago.

Nicole couldn’t help but smile when she took a deep breath of the cool, sterile air of the Information Systems wing.  It reminded her every time of coming home after a long trip, no matter how many times she had visited since her discharge two years ago.  A young man with neatly trimmed sandy hair rounded the corner to cut across the lobby, tapping furiously on a tablet as he walked.

“Lookin’ good, Ween.”

The soldier’s head snapped up at the name, his face brightening when he saw Nicole standing with her hands in the pockets of her faded jeans, grinning at him broadly.

“Well, if it isn’t Haughtshot.”  He tucked the tablet under his arm as he hurried over to her, sticking out his hand.

Nicole rolled her eyes.  “Still with the Haughtshot?  I thought we’d be past that by now,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand, and then letting him pull her into a one-armed hug.

“This from the asshole that just called me ‘Ween’ again.”

“What can I say?  Specialist Weimelt is such a mouthful.”  She shrugged at him innocently.

“You bet it is,” he smirked.

“Oh, Jesus,” Nicole scoffed, smacking his shoulder.  “Some things never change.”

“Hey, we can’t all be legends around here.   _ Haughtshot _ .”  His words were teasing, but his tone was light and warm, clearly holding a genuine respect for her.

Nicole just shook her head.  “How’ve you been, Ryan?  Jessie and the kids?”

Weimelt beamed at her, reaching for his wallet.  “Growing like weeds,” he said, flipping it open and handing it to her.  “Anna just turned three.  And Joey’s five now.  Thinks he’s gonna be a fighter pilot when he grows up.  He’s got a Super Hornet model we can’t pry out of his hands,” he complained, wrinkling his nose.

“Can’t have that, now can we?”  She chuckled at the standing Army/Navy rivalry as she handed him back the pictures.

“I’m working on it,” he said with a dramatic sigh.  “What about you, Haught?  Find a pretty girl to settle down with yet?”

The blush that crept up Nicole’s face when her mind instantly drifted to Waverly was both immediate and extremely obvious, judging by the smirk Weimelt gave her.

“I, uh…  I’m…  It’s not—“

“Wow…” Weimelt laughed.  “This girl must be really something if she’s got Chief Haughtshot stuttering and blushing like a plebe on her first day at West Point.”

Nicole cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck.  “H-hey, did you know I run my own PI firm now?” she asked, blatantly changing the subject.  He opened his mouth to mock her avoidance, but she cut him off before he could start.  “It’s called Purgatory Investigations.”

“That’s…  random,” he said, tilting his head.

“Not really,” Nicole shrugged, producing a business card from her wallet and handing it to him.

“Purgatory Investigations.   _ Turn to us when you’re caught in between _ .”  Weimelt snorted, running his finger over the embossed motto.  “Clever.”

“I thought so,” she grinned.

“So the great Nicole Haught, hacker extraordinaire, has been relegated to taking dirty pictures of cheating spouses.  What’s the world coming to?” he teased playfully as he tucked the card into the pocket of his fatigues.

“That’s not all it is,  _ Ween _ .”  Nicole shook her head and rolled her eyes.  She pushed the sleeves of her Henley up out of habit and her posture straightened as she glanced around.  “That’s, uh…  It’s kind of why I’m here,” she said, her voice lower.  “Do you have a minute to talk?”

Weimelt’s brow furrowed at the change in her demeanor and he glanced at his watch.  “Yeah, it’s about time for a smoke.  Care to step out back with me?”

“It’s a nasty habit, Specialist.  Can’t believe you haven’t kicked it yet,” Nicole chided him, easily falling back into the Chief Warrant Officer Haught persona.

“Yeah, yeah.  Now you sound like Jessie.”

“Well, she’s a smart woman.  Except for the part where she married a guy named Ween.”

“You know why I’m glad you’re not my boss anymore,  _ ma’am _ ?” he asked sarcastically when Nicole fell into step next him, easily navigating the familiar corridors as though on auto-pilot.  “Because now I can tell you to  _ fuck off _ , and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Lucky for you,” she laughed as they stepped out onto the small concrete patio off the back of the building.

“What’s on your mind, Chief?” he asked a little more seriously after lighting his cigarette.

Nicole leaned back against the brick wall, folding her arms across her chest and looking around one final time.  When she was sure there was no one around to hear them, she regarded Weimelt again, all traces of humor gone.

“How much do you know about the Provost Marshal?”

He snorted as he flicked a length of glowing ash from the end of his cigarette, but when he saw the way Nicole was looking at him, his grin turned to a frown.

“Jesus, Haught.  You’re serious?”  His voice was laced with disbelief, but she only nodded at him.  “I guess you private dicks don’t fuck around.”

“Look.  He’s railroading a homicide investigation, and I just wondered if you’d heard any chatter about what he might be into.”  She dropped her arms and let her thumbs hook in the pockets of her jeans.

Weimelt took a long drag and contemplated for a moment before exhaling a puff of smoke.  “Can’t say I really know anything about him,” he shrugged and Nicole sighed with disappointment.  “I’ve never even met the guy.  Delroy something, isn’t it?”

“Del Ray.”

“Right.  Luckily, I’ve never had any run-ins with his MPs, either,” he said with a grimace.

Nicole cocked her head to the side.  “The threat of a little time in the stockade got you scared  _ that _ straight?”

“No.  I mean, yes but…  That’s not what I meant.”

“Care to elaborate?”  Nicole’s curiosity was definitely kicking in.

“It’s just…  Well.  Everyone kind of knows.  You don’t fuck with the Revenants.”  Weimelt dropped the butt of his cigarette on the concrete and twisted it with the toe of his boot before nervously lighting another one.

“Really.”  Nicole stroked her chin thoughtfully for a moment.  “Dirty?”

“Violent.  Shady.”  He shifted anxiously from foot to foot.  “I don’t know anything for sure.  Like I said.  I’ve managed to avoid them.  Just…  Be careful who you talk to about this, Haught.  You don’t want to get on their bad side.”

Nicole frowned as she tried to piece together what a unit of corrupt military police – and potentially their commander – could be running through the Personal Effects Depot.  And how they could possibly be linked to a homicide that occurred off the base, especially when the victim’s father seemed to have no ties to any of them.

Reminded of something else, Nicole shook her head before speaking again.  “Did you hear about the Chief Logistics Officer getting deployed with no notice?”

“How did you know about that?”  Weimelt looked at her with incredulity, but Nicole just quirked an eyebrow at him.  “Right.  I’m getting the idea you know a  _ lot _ of things,” he chuckled and flicked more ash.  “Terrible business, all of that.”

“All of what?  You knew the Chief Logo?” she prompted.

“I didn’t  _ know  _ him, no.  I think I fixed his Corporal’s computer once.”  Weimelt shrugged before continuing.  “But Major Evans finds out his son died, then two days later he’s off to the sandbox.”

“His son died?”  Nicole did her best to sound surprised.  Thankfully Weimelt wasn’t really focusing on her.

“Yeah, rumor has it the kid was a real mess.  Parties, DUIs, the works.”  He shook his head.  “You didn’t have to know the Major to hear the stories about Zach’s latest fiasco.  Guess it finally caught up to him.”

“That sounds bad,” she said casually.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded.  “And then, just like that, he shipped out.  Didn’t even get a chance to find out…” Weimelt trailed off and looked at Nicole curiously.  “Hey, wait a minute.  Didn’t you say something about a murder case? Is th—“

“Well,” Nicole said sharply as she pushed herself off the wall and made a show of checking her watch.  “Looks like it’s time for me to go.  Don’t wanna keep any clients waiting.”

“Are you  _ serious _ ?”  He stared at her slack jawed for a moment.  “You’re looking int—“

“I’m not looking into anything,  _ Specialist _ ,” she said pointedly, her voice firm.  “I’m simply here for my monthly trip to the BX and Comm.  And to catch up with an old friend.”  Her expression softened as she nudged him with her elbow.

“Fair enough,  _ Haughtshot _ ,” Weimelt returned with a grin.  “Just be careful out there,” he added.  “This is a little different than going rogue to save a unit of helpless jarheads.”

“I’ll be fine, Ween.  Don’t worry about me.”  She patted his shoulder affectionately as she turned to open the door.  “You just worry about Jessie and those two troublemakers.  Can’t have Joey growing up to be a flyboy, now can we?”  She winked at him when he flipped her off.

They walked back through the building together and said goodbye when they reached the lobby.  It didn’t take long before Nicole had cleared the front gate and was back on the main road into Homestead.  Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove, she allowed her thoughts to wander over everything that had come up in the past month regarding Fort Wainwright.

Nicole was usually a fairly laid back person, but there was no denying she was beginning to get frustrated.  She felt like there was an entire scene spread out before her, but no matter how she tried to connect the dots, she just couldn’t see the bigger picture.

 

+++++

 

**_September 29, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ ** ****__  
  


“Oooo…  A real life cowboy.”

“We don’t get many of those in here.”

“Ladies, ladies,” Doc cooed, his mustache twitching.  “There’s plenty of ol’ Henry to go around.”

“This is Lilith,” one of the dark-haired women waved at the other.

“And this is my twin sister Eve,” Lilith added, stroking down the other woman’s arm.  “Welcome to The Stone Witch, Henry.”

“We’ll be your hostesses tonight,” Eve purred in his ear.

“Please enjoy the girls…”

“…the fine liquor…”

“…and any other pleasurable vices you might indulge in.  And if there’s anything  _ else  _ we can help you with tonight,” Lilith trailed a finger down the portion of Doc’s chest that was exposed from his partially unbuttoned shirt, “you let us know, cowboy.”

Their eyes seemed to glow almost purple in the soft neon lighting of the otherwise dark room, and for a moment Doc had a peculiar feeling like he would do anything they asked of him.  Shaking himself out of his stupor – primarily due to the fact that he had a vision of Wynonna castrating him – he tipped his hat at the corset-clad women and gave them his best charming grin.

“I will be sure to do that, loves.  Now if you would be so kind as to direct me toward your best dancers, I’d be much obliged.”

“My pleasure,” Eve breathed, linking her pale fingers with Doc’s and leading him over to a padded leather chair situated at the polished low-top counter that ran along the side of the main stage.  “Are you thirsty, Henry?”

“Now that you mention it, ma’am,” Doc said, his blue eyes twinkling, “I do believe I’m rather parched.  What’s your finest whiskey?”

“What would you say to a shot of Pappy Van Winkle’s?”

Doc nearly choked on nothing.  “You have a bottle of Pappy’s Family Reserve?”  The devilish grin Eve gave in response was answer enough.  “The ten or the twenty year?” he asked, unable to hide his excitement.

“Just got a bottle of the twenty in a few days ago.”  She removed his hat and began running her fingers through his hair.  “Only the best for you, cowboy.”

“Wasting Pappy’s on a shot would be disgraceful, my dear. That just won’t do.”  Doc shook his head.  “It’s meant to be sipped and savored.  I’d be grateful if you brought me two…  no make it three fingers.  Neat.”

“I do like a man who knows what he wants.”  Eve’s voice took on a suggestive tone as she dropped Doc’s hat back on his head at a funny angle.  “Three fingers of Pappy Van Winkle’s, comin’ right up.”

Doc let out a low whistle as she sauntered away, fixing his hat and settling back into the comfortable chair.  Looking around, Doc took advantage of the first chance he’d found to really check out the club since he had gotten there.  It may be situated in the middle of the industrial area by the docks, complete with a façade resembling a warehouse, but the inside looked like something straight out of the finance district.

The heavily lacquered hardwood floors were polished to a high shine, and the fixtures were all sleek and modern.  Flashy chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, dimmed low to create an atmosphere of privacy.  The tables and counters and trimmings were all deep mahogany, reflecting the soft glow from the strips of neon running lights, throwing a hypnotizing palette of color around the room.

The club was busy.  Groups of men in suits occupied large booths and tables in some areas, smaller clusters of well-dressed women gathered around high-top tables sipping martinis in others, while solitary patrons tucked themselves away in darkened corners, wrapping themselves in the anonymity found there.  Judging by the clothing and mannerisms of the customers, it would seem The Stone Witch tended to draw a higher class of clientele. 

Doc wondered how this place could possibly have any ties to the young party kid Wynonna had found on the other side of the docks.

It didn’t take long for him to figure it out.

Eve had returned with his drink, flirtatious as ever, and he slipped her several crisp bills that he’d drawn from the firm’s expense account earlier in the day.  Doc swirled the amber liquid and made an obscene noise when he sipped the twenty year old bourbon, then turned his attention to the stage as the background club music shifted to something with a heavier beat and a group of young woman prowled out from behind the curtain.

While casually tossing bills on the stage – and tucking them into the garments of the girls when they danced over to the edge where several patrons were seated – Doc watched the perimeter of the room, where a few skulkers lingered, assuming they were free of prying eyes thanks to the distraction of the main event.  He squinted as he peered past a dancer hanging upside down from a pole by only one leg and watched as one of the scantily clad serving girls slipped a group of young men a small baggie in exchange for a roll of cash.

Well, that answered one question.  Drugs were definitely being moved through this establishment, though what kind and how many remained to be seen.

The elaborate dance routine continued before him, and Doc allowed himself to get lost in the long limbs and glittery skin and sequined G-strings for a while as he continued to nurse the rich, smoky whiskey.  He seemed to catch the eye of one girl in particular, and she smiled at him often, even moving a little closer to give him a better view.  He winked at her and tucked a few bills in the garter belt on her thigh until the sound of raised voices along the outer wall of the club drew his attention.

A slender man with dark hair and a lazy beard, wearing loose fitting white cotton clothes that stood out against the finer dress of the patrons, was making his way to a door marked employees only, groping the serving girls as he went.  He was followed by a tall, bulky bald man in a long, grey overcoat with severe scarring on his face.  Thanks to the deep house beats pounding through the speakers while the girls danced, Doc couldn’t make out what they were arguing about.  But as they passed behind him on the way to the back, he did catch a bit of their conversation.

“She’s not happy with you, Lou,” the bald man growled, his voice gravelly.  “You have to stop sampling the products.  It’s bad for business.”

“Relax, Drek,” Lou answered in a much more mellow tone.  “Don’t be such a momma’s boy.” 

He grabbed the nearest girl and pulled her close, ignoring her frightened whimper as he ran his fingers through her hair.  Doc stiffened in his seat, but was in no position to make a move, so he continued to observe, waiting.  Lou kissed the girl roughly, then pushed her away, smacking her ass as she went stumbling back toward the nearest table.

“Sometimes they just need a little  _ guidance _ ,” he drawled with a lecherous grin.

“Keep your hands off,” Drek warned again, not amused with Lou’s antics.  “And that goes for the rest of it, too.” 

He stared Lou down for a few more moments, then turned and marched back toward the front door.  Lou rolled his eyes and continued on his route to the back, unlocking the marked door and disappearing behind it.

Doc was contemplating his next move when the music changed again and several of the girls exited the main stage, their group number completed, leaving just a couple of dancers spread across the smaller platforms.  A few moments later, the pretty girl with the dark hair and sparkling green eyes that had been interacting with him earlier appeared beside Doc.

“How’s your evening, honey?” she asked, spinning his chair around to face her.

“Hoo, boy…” Doc let his eyes travel up, past where her bare chest was practically in his face, and grinned when he saw her smiling down at him.  “It certainly seems to be looking up now.”

“You’re sweet,” she giggled and dropped herself into his lap, straddling him in the chair.  Doc dug his fingers into to the soft leather, resisting the urge to let his hands wander.

“W-what’s all this, then?” he stammered as she began to sway her hips, covered only in a barely there thong, against his in time with the music.

“You looked lonely,” she said, bracing herself against his shoulders and rocking back and forth.  “And I could use a friend,” she added playfully as she kissed him on the cheek, leaving behind a perfect print in her red lipstick.

“Well, then.  If we’re going to be friends, I think it’s only fair to introduce myself.”  Doc tipped his hat at her.  “Name’s Henry.  And what about a pretty little filly like you?”

“Such a gentleman,” she said, snatching his hat and dropping it on her own head.  “You can call me Chastity.”

She began to roll her body against his, grinding her hips in his lap.  Doc shifted uncomfortably in the chair beneath her and eventually allowed himself to place his hands on her hips, trying to create some space between them by scooting her back on his thighs.

“What’s the matter, Henry?” Chastity pouted.  “Don’t you like what you see?”

“Oh, I…”  Doc cleared his throat as his eyes traveled the length of her body and settled back up on her face.  “I like the view very much.”  He chuckled and she smiled at him genuinely.  “But, uh…  But you don’t have to do this, young lady.  The dancing was plenty satisfactory.”

Doc pushed a bit more insistently, and immediately saw panic flash through Chastity’s eyes.

“Whoa, now.  Whoa.”  He removed his hands from her hips, holding them out in front of him in a calming gesture.  “I’m not going to hurt you, Chastity.  I do apologize if I gave you that impression.”

She shook her head slightly, glancing over Doc’s shoulder and then back at him again.  She gave him a weak smile, and then returned her focus to some point behind them.

Very slowly, Doc began to spin his chair around to shift their perspectives.  He leaned forward as though he was going to whisper in Chastity’s ear and used the new position to scan the room in the direction she had been looking previously.  His gaze settled on Lilith and Eve, huddled closely together, whispering to each other as they watched Doc and Chastity closely from behind the bar.

Settling back in the chair again, he looked at Chastity inquisitively.

“Please, Henry,” she pleaded.  “If I don’t do my…  If I don’t do  _ this _ , they’ll be angry.  Please just let me take care of you.  You seem very nice.”

Doc’s jaw flexed at the implications, but he nodded his head.  “Alright, darlin’.  You can spend the evening with me.  But there will be no expectations, understand?”  She didn’t say anything, so he continued.  “Now why don’t you turn around and I’ll let you help me tip these lovely ladies.”

Chastity narrowed her eyes, regarding him for a moment as though looking for some sort of trap.  When he only tilted his head slightly with an encouraging smile, she finally agreed.  Turning in his lap, she draped herself across it, allowing her legs to hang over the arm of the chair and he turned them back around to face the stage.

He handed her a stack of cash and they spent a long while watching the various dancers take their turn at the pole directly in front of them on the stage.  A waitress brought Doc a refill on his whiskey, and Chastity slipped bills into the garters of the girls when they came close.  The longer she sat in Doc’s lap, the more she relaxed, and after a while, he thought it seemed like she might genuinely be enjoying herself.

“So tell me, Chastity.  What sort of other  _ pleasurable vices _ might a gentleman find for himself around here?” he asked when he found an opening while the dancers were preparing for another group routine.  Chastity hadn’t made a move to join them, so Doc assumed she would be staying with him.

The question instantly caused her to tense up again.  “Aren’t you having a good time?” she asked, looking at him with concern in her eyes.

“Of course I am, little lady,” he immediately reassured her.  “But I’m a man of many interests.  I’m just lookin’ for a bit of fun for another night.”  She was frowning at him, so he winked at her with a grin.  “I’ve heard tell of other  _ clubs _ that provide a different sort of entertainment.  I’m only curious how I might go about finding myself at such an establishment.”

“I suppose you’ve also heard this sort of entertainment tends to move around?” Chastity asked, her voice full of resignation.

“I have.”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging a little.  “I can give you a number to call.  You’ll be given instructions from there.”

“How positively cloak and dagger,” he teased, but he could tell the smile she gave in return was forced.

“Just…  Don’t tell the Teufel sisters, okay?”

“Of course, love.”

Sliding her hands up his chest, Chastity sipped the pen from his shirt pocket and leaned forward to take the napkin from beneath his whiskey tumbler.  Scribbling a number on it, she brought it to her mouth, pressing a kiss to it and leaving a perfect lip print on it.  She handed both objects to Doc and he tucked them away again for safe keeping.

“Be careful, cowboy,” she said, playing with the ends of his mustache.  “Don’t get yourself caught up in something you shouldn’t.”

“I’m always careful, Chastity.”  He grinned, turning his head slightly to kiss the back of her hand.

“I hope so,” she whispered sadly.  “And, Henry?  You can call me Margot.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, but only nodded in response.  They spent the rest of the night, well into the wee hours of the morning, drinking and flirting and enjoying the dancers.  When Doc finally ran out of the cash he’d brought with him, he bid Margot a good night and stumbled toward the exit, calling for a cab.

Once he was safely on his way home, he called Nicole to let her know what he’d found out.  She sounded sleepy at first, and his slurred words made it difficult for her to understand him, but the more he told her, the quicker she became alert, making notes of the names he’d learned and copying down the phone number his new friend had given him.  She told him to get some rest and they’d talk more in the evening, after he’d had time to sleep off his whiskey.

The next number he called was Wynonna.  

She was far less eager to talk to him, and as he stared at the napkin with the lipstick kiss while the cab pulled up in front of his houseboat at the marina, Doc found himself wondering just exactly how much trouble he was in.

 

+++++

 

**_September 30, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ ** ****__  
  


Shorty’s was a cop bar in the city, run by the man himself as well as Wynonna and Waverly’s honorary aunt, Gus McCready. Shorty was a longtime family friend and the best person to go to in a difficult situation. Gus was the widow of Ward Earp’s fellow police officer, Curtis. And she had no patience for shenanigans.

“Wynonna Earp, get your boots off of my table,” she snapped, slapping at Wynonna’s feet as she kicked back in her chair with a glass of whiskey.

“I’m comfortable,” Wynonna replied grumpily.

Gus rolled her eyes and turned to Nedley, who was nursing a glass of scotch. “I don’t know how you still put up with her, Randy, I really don’t.”

“She makes good coffee,” Nedley said with a shrug.

“Thanks a lot.”

Waverly appeared at the table and slumped down in the seat across from Wynonna, sighing heavily. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “We got in a few new Nighthawks.”

“And you had to spend a few minutes alone with them?” Wynonna cracked.

“Shut the hell up.”

“Make me.”

“How about I take that whiskey and-”

“Guys,” Nicole’s voice said calmly from off to the side. She was standing in that sort of relaxed military pose that she did so well, hands interlocked behind her back, neutral expression surveying the table but lingering just a bit too long in Waverly’s direction. Doc and a man in jeans and a dark jacket were standing behind her. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” Waverly said, just a bit too quickly.

Wynonna smirked as Doc took a seat next to her. “Need something, Nic?”

“I wanted to make an introduction. This is Sergeant First Class Xavier Dolls. Sergeant, these are Detective Wynonna Earp, Detective Randy Nedley, Gus McCready, and Waverly Earp.”

Dolls nodded but said nothing.

“I should get back to the customers,” Gus said. “Pleasure to meet you, Sergeant.” She lightly smacked Wynonna’s feet fully off of the table and walked away.

“So,” Dolls said. “Cops?”

“I know you weren’t interested in talking to cops, but trust me when I say that Wynonna and Nedley are reliable. They have my back.” Nicole gestured at an empty seat, waited for Dolls to sit down, and then sat herself.

“Do they know about… everything?” Dolls asked, his voice low.

“No. But I wanted to let you know that Doc and I haven’t been able to make much progress. We’re working on it, I promise you that much, but it’s hard to get a lot of information.”

Wynonna snorted. “If it’s military related, tough chance. The Provost Marshall at the base is a shady prick.”

“You met Del Ray?” Dolls asked, surprise in his voice.

“Yeah. Nedley and I were over there asking around about the dead kid of one of the soldiers. Del Douchebag shut the whole thing down.”

“Hm.” Dolls drummed his fingers on the table softly. “I’m really not sure I trust him. I would talk to the Brigadier General about it, but… I’m sure you know how bad that would look, Haught.”

Nicole scoffed loudly. “Yeah. How would you feel about being transferred to the middle of nowhere and given a menial job that you’re stuck in for the rest of your career?”

“Exactly.” Dolls sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Thank you for continuing to look into it. It’s a shame that there isn’t more.”

As he walked away, Wynonna muttered, “ _ Damn _ is he hot.”

“Thanks,” Doc grumbled.

“You have no room to complain. When you came over last night you smelled like manwhore.”

“Mm.” Doc pulled his hat down over his eyes and hunched down a bit, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“We’re going to need a new bottle of that.” Wynonna walked over to the bar, exchanged a few words with Gus, and walked back with a full bottle of whiskey. “Hey, Nic, Wave, Gus was wondering if you two could go get her another case of Blue Moon out of the storage room?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, sure.”

As they walked towards the back room, Nicole said, “I heard you got a new shipment in today.”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Waverly gushed, bouncing up onto the balls of her feet. “God, Nicole, they’re  _ gorgeous _ . You should see one of them. I just want to buy all of them.”

Nicole chuckled softly. “You really do like guns, don’t you?”

“If it’s a Nighthawk? Damn straight.” Waverly peered around at the shelves of liquor. “Any idea where the Blue Moon is?”

“It’s all alphabetized, Wave.”

“Oh, well…” Waverly flushed. “Shut up.”

Nicole pulled the case down and set it on the floor. “Do you think we should-”

She was cut off by the door to the storage room slamming closed.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Waverly hissed under her breath. She hurried over and tried the door knob. “It’s locked. Shit.  _ Shit. _ Fuck.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow at her, amusement flickering at the edges of her lips. “Are… Are you okay?”

“I really,  _ really _ do not like small rooms like this.”

“That why your office is almost as big as your shop?”

“ _ Nicole _ .”

“I’m trying to make you feel better,” Nicole said softly.

Waverly took a long, slow breath and closed her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… I’m not all that happy right now.”

“Well, it’ll be okay.” Nicole skimmed her fingers along the edges of the boxes until she found one with a large industrial staple. She pulled the staple out and crouched down in front of the door’s lock. “Just give me a minute.”

“What, are you going to pick the lock?”

A faint smile formed on Nicole’s face. “Yes, actually, I’m going to pick the lock.”

Still fidgeting, discomfort obvious in her entire body, Waverly said, “How do you know how to do that? Did the Army teach you that?”

“Nope.” Nicole twisted the staple around and mumbled a curse when it almost broke. “I, uh… Well, let’s just say that when I was a kid, I was a bit rebellious.”

“Jesus. Were you a little tiny criminal?”

Nicole glanced back and winked at her, and Waverly felt great relief when she turned back to the lock before the bright red blush spread over Waverly’s face. “Don’t be silly, Wave. You can’t join the military when you have a felony on your record.”

“That doesn’t answer the question. Not really.”

One final movement clicked the door unlocked, and Nicole stood back up. When she turned to Waverly, she was grinning. “I guess it doesn’t.”

“Ass.”

Nicole picked up the case of alcohol. “I got you out of the room, didn’t I?”

Waverly swallowed. “You did.”

There was a long pause, then Nicole’s grin twitched back into her neutral expression. “I should get this to Gus.”

Cursing inwardly, Waverly followed Nicole back out to the front of the bar. And didn’t even notice Wynonna glance up, see them, and immediately smack her face with her hand.

 

+++++

 

**_October 2, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ ** ****__  
  


The driver was begging for his life as three men dragged him into a warehouse. None of them so much as looked in his direction. They just stood there, keeping him on his knees and waiting.

After about fifteen long minutes, Lieutenant Colonel Del Ray strode in, his pace matched by a serious woman with tightly-managed blonde hair. The man on the floor immediately began pleading with her.

“Lucado, please, I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what?” she interrupted sharply. “Steal what you were meant to drive to Tatenhill?”

“I-”

Whatever he was about to say was never finished, because Lucado pulled a gun out from behind her back, raised it, and shot him in the head.

Del Ray watched without any flicker of emotion as the driver slumped over onto the floor. “Efficient,” he murmured. “Though a bit quicker than I would’ve probably gone for.”

“He’s not worth the time,” Lucado snarled. She handed the gun to Del Ray. “Get rid of this.” She kicked the body at her feet. “Get rid of that, too.”

“Ramaker, Sturgiss, Red. Get him out of here.”

The three men picked up the driver’s body and began to drag it out of the warehouse.

Del Ray calmly began to disassemble the gun he was holding. “Anything else?”

Lucado shook her head. “Just don’t fuck anything up.” She turned on her heel and walked out of the building, straightening her suit jacket as she went.


	7. no idea that you're in deep

**_October 5, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

  
  


“White male, forty-two, found this morning floating face-up in the river,” Wynonna reported as Nedley walked up to her, looking down at the body being zipped into a bag at their feet. “Name’s Bradley Stokes. Uniform says he works for Tatenhill Farms.”

“What the hell is Tatenhill Farms?”

“Well, Google– and that Bonekeeper prick –says that it’s a food distributor.”

Nedley rubbed the back of his neck. “Somebody caps a food truck driver and dumps him in the river?”

“Without taking anything out of his wallet.”

“Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

Wynonna gave a scoffing laugh. “Mhm. That’s what I said.”

 

+++++

 

The owners of Tatenhill Farms were a family of three, a heavyset woman known as Mama Olive and her two children, twins Hetty and Herman Tate.

“So you’re saying that you have  _ absolutely no idea _ of  _ any reason _ that someone would want one of your drivers dead?” Nedley asked, irritation showing in the way he rapidly tapped his pen against his notebook.

Herman shook his head and shrugged. “No clue. Didn’t really know Stokes very well.”

“And nothing at work could’ve incited this kind of violence?” Wynonna prompted.

“Nope,” Hetty said. “He only works one route, and it’s the safest route we’ve got.”

“See, detectives,” Mama Olive said, shooting a sharp glare at her daughter, “Mr. Stokes delivers– sorry,  _ delivered _ –to the base. Nobody would shoot him over something like that. Clearly this was just a robbery gone  _ terribly _ wrong.”

“Right.” Nedley clicked his pen a few times. “So. Could we get a look at his work records?”

Herman tensed, but calmed again almost immediately when Hetty rested a hand on his back. Mama Olive smiled with too many teeth. “I’m so sorry, Detective, but you’re going to need a warrant for that information. Privacy concerns. I’m sure you understand.”

“Mhm. Definitely. Thank you for your time, folks.”

As they left the office, Wynonna muttered, “Could they have been any sketchier?”

“I’m not entirely sure that would be possible,” Nedley snorted.

Wynonna scoffed. “Assholes. And really, the base again? I’m telling you, Randy, I don’t like this. Something’s not right here.”

Nedley shot her a humorless grin. “What, do you want to go back to that base and ask the Provost Marshal if he killed the delivery driver?”

“Fuck no. I’m not going near that place until I have more reason to.”

“Good. I didn’t want to go either.”

A cellphone buzzed, and Wynonna glanced down at the screen. “Autopsy’s done. Single bullet to the head. We can swing by and pick up the full report, and get the bullet to drop off to Mattie.”

“You aren’t allowed to sit in the room and stare at her until she gets a result.”

Wynonna pouted at him. “Spoilsport.”

 

+++++

 

**_October 6, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

“This is not exactly the kind of date I had in mind for this weekend.  Think I much preferred the pretty lady sitting in my lap last Saturday.”

“This is not a date.  Nor is it a joke, Mr. Holliday.  We’re here to gather information.”

Doc rolled his eyes with a groan.  “Yeah, and that’s not gonna happen if you don’t learn to relax, soldier boy.  That stick up your ass is gonna give us away in a heartbeat.”

Dolls remained silent, the muscles in his jaw flexing, but he managed to drop his arms from where they were folded across his chest and shove his hands in his pockets instead.

“It’s a good thing Wynonna prefers a gentleman that’s a bit more laid back,” Doc grumbled, mostly to himself, as he pushed his hat back a little farther on his head with a wry grin.

Dolls frowned for a moment until recognition dawned on his face.  “Detective Earp?”

“Yeah,” Doc snorted when he realized Dolls had heard him.   _ “Detective _ Earp.”

“Why would her preference in men have any bearing on this recon mission?” Dolls asked, his brow furrowed.

Doc watched him through narrowed eyes as he waited for some kind of punchline.  When it became clear that Dolls was serious, Doc almost choked on his own laughter.

“Well,” he said, throwing a playful arm around the other man’s shoulders and starting to lead him toward the ring of people.  “Apparently it doesn’t.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dolls hissed, planting his feet and bringing their forward motion to a jerking halt, causing Doc to stumble briefly.

“Listen,” Doc grunted as he righted himself again.  “We are here tonight to gather intel, are we not?”

“Of course.”

“Well, that sure as hell ain’t gonna happen if we just keep skulking in the shadows of this warehouse.”  Dolls stared at him, his nostrils flaring, but still refused to budge.  Doc rolled his eyes again.  “We haveta mingle.  Blend in.  And thanks to our expense account,” he said, pulling a roll of bills from his pocket, “I think I know just how to do that.”  He rolled the money between his finger and thumb.  “Nic’s gonna kill me after last week’s  _ expenses, _ but if it finally earns us a goddamn lead…” he trailed off as he scanned the room quickly before looking back at Dolls.  “Well, I’d say that’d be worth it,” he said with a wink.

Dolls stiffened beside him, seeming to war with himself over something before finally nodding with a sigh.  “I suppose that’s what I’m paying you for, Mr. Holliday.”

“Okay, first things first,” Doc said, shoving the money back in his pocket for the time being.  “You gotta drop this ‘Mr. Holliday’ nonsense.  Henry will be fine.”

Dolls clenched his jaw, but nodded again.   _ “Henry.” _

“And, second…”  Doc jerked his head toward the commotion behind him.  “It’s time we made some new friends.”  He grinned, his mustache twitching, then turned and pressed into the throng of people, leaving a reluctant Dolls to follow behind.

When the two of them had pushed their way to the front of the crowd, they found the centerpiece of the night’s entertainment.  The warehouse was mostly abandoned save for a few stacks of old, broken pallets that had been piled haphazardly in various corners.  It smelled of week-old fish and every surface was covered in a layer of chalky dust, but several cardboard boxes had been ripped open and spread over a large area of the grimy floor, creating a makeshift ring which was currently surrounded by a sea of bodies, jostling and jockeying for position.

At the center of the ring, two men danced around each other, sweat rolling off of their faces, blood caked under their noses, knuckles raw and angry red.  One of them couldn’t be older than a college kid – a frat boy, by the looks of it – his ball cap with Greek lettering turned backward on his mop of messy hair, with his faded t-shirt, designer jeans, and shiny white sneakers. 

The other looked like he had come straight from a bank, still in suit pants and polished dress shoes.  He was lankier than his muscular opponent, but taller and seemed to move with certain fluidity that the clumsy college kid lacked.   The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up above his elbows and the unbuttoned collar was stained with the blood that trickled down his clean-cut face from a cut above one of his eyes.

Doc spared a glance at Dolls and cocked his head with a shrug when Dolls only raised a disbelieving eyebrow in response.

“Hey, uh…  buddy…” Doc said, raising his voice over the roaring crowd as he leaned toward a greasy man standing next to him.  “Where might a fella like me get in on some-a this here action?”

“Talk to Whiskey Jim,” the man answered curtly without taking his eyes off of the brawl.  The banker had just landed a blow to the frat boy’s scruffy jaw, sending him staggering backward, and things were starting to heat up.

“What’s a Whiskey Jim?” Doc asked, crinkling his nose, but the man was already ignoring him again, his elbow thrown out as he yelled at the fighters.

Doc pushed closer to Dolls and was about to suggest they move to a different area of the crowd when a scantily dressed woman appeared at his arm.  He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out why she looked so familiar, but she interrupted him by reaching up and plucking his hat from his head.

“Hiya, cowboy,” she drawled as she dropped the hat on her own head, leaning in close enough to be heard over the noise and Doc could feel her warm breath on his cheek.  “Having a good time?” she asked, batting her eyelashes and looping her arm through his.

“Well, hello there, darlin’,” he replied, still trying to place her.  “Yes, me and my friend here are enjoying the festivities this fine evening.”

She leaned forward to look past him at Dolls, who still had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, but couldn’t be standing any straighter if he was strapped to a backboard.

“Uhhh…  Is your friend gonna be alright over there, sugar?” she purred in Doc’s ear.

“Don’t you worry your pretty li’l head about him, sweetheart,” Doc said as he turned to glare at Dolls.  “He’s just the strong and silent type.”

“What’s your name, cowboy?” she asked, adjusting the overlarge hat on her head.

“You can call me John,” Doc said with a grin.  “And who might you be?”

“I’m Sonya.”  She pressed further into his side and a wave of recognition finally washed over Doc.  She was one of the dancers he’d seen during the group routine at The Stone Witch.  The man they called Lou must have some of his girls servicing these  _ alternative _ parties, too.

“Sonya.  A pretty name for a pretty lady.”  He caught Dolls giving him a disapproving look out of the corner of his eye, but he merely winked at the girl and carried on.  “Tell me, Sonya,” he said, throwing an arm around her shoulders.  “We were hoping to make a little wager on tonight’s events…”

“Oooo…” she giggled.  “Sounds like fun!  Come with me and I’ll take you to Whiskey Jim.”

She slid her hand into his and started dragging him through the crowd while he threw a pointed look over his shoulder indicating Dolls should follow him.  They made their way around to the other side of the ring where they saw a short, weasely man bracketed by two much larger, bulkier men in sunglasses and dark clothes.  He was on the phone, pacing animatedly, his gaudy snakeskin boots stirring up the layer of dust coating the warehouse floor. 

When Sonya approached him, he cut off the call abruptly, shoving the phone into the pocket of his matching snakeskin vest and raking his fingers through the wiry beard that covered the bottom half of his face.  She cut him off before he could begin to yell, indicating urgently over her shoulder.

The man curled his lip momentarily before straightening his tie and strutting over to where Doc and Dolls were standing.  His entourage remained a step behind him, standing head and shoulders above even Dolls.

“Gentlemen!” he called loudly, spreading his arms wide.  “Welcome to the show!  Sonya here tells me you’d like to make a little book with ol’ Whiskey Jim.”

“A little wager always makes things more interesting,” Doc drawled as he slipped the roll of bills out of his pocket again.  “And I’m itchin’ to test my luck.”

“What’ll it be then, boys?” Whiskey Jim asked, his voice thick and raspy as he took another step closer.

Doc and Dolls turned back toward the ring to find that the frat boy had finally put the banker on his ass, and was celebrating with a girl on each arm.  The exchange of a small baggie similar to the ones Doc had seen back at the strip club did not go unnoticed by either of them.  Before Dolls could object and blow his thinly veiled cover, Doc spoke up to keep him quiet.

“What do you have lined up next for us, Whiskey Jimmy?”

The man’s eye twitched at the liberties Doc had taken with his name, but he gestured to the next two men stepping into the ring, both shirtless and wearing fatigue pants and combat boots.

“Those are both soldiers,” Dolls blurted out while looking at their tattoos before Doc could elbow him in the ribs.

“We get all kinds here,” Whiskey Jim said proudly, puffing up his chest.  “Looks like you might draw a decent price yourself,” he added, poking Dolls in the bicep.

Dolls opened his mouth, but Doc was already talking over him again.

“This one doesn’t seem like a very even match,” he pointed out.  One of the men was nearly as wide as he was tall, curly hair covering his barrel chest despite the fact that his head was completely bald.  The other was scrawny in comparison, a camouflage knit beanie that matched his pants covering his dark hair, wild locks sticking out from underneath it at all angles. 

“Makes the betting more fun,” Whiskey Jim said with a wheezy laugh.  “Now are ya gonna put your money where your mouth is before it’s too late?”

“Of course.”   Doc peeled several bills off of his roll and slapped them into Whiskey Jim’s hand.  “Always been a fan of the underdog, myself.  And this one looks scrappy,” he said as the smaller man danced around the larger one, taunting him with his bouncy movements.

“Your loss!” Whiskey Jim laughed, almost gleefully, as she shoved the cash in the pocket of his leather pants.  “Now if you boys will excuse me…” he trailed off as he spotted something over Doc’s shoulder on the other side of the warehouse.  “Enjoy the fight,” he added with a smirk as he strutted away with his bodyguards flanking him on either side.

“Do you not understand the meaning of the word  _ undercover, _ soldier boy?” Doc seethed before Sonya was back in earshot.  Dolls never got a chance to respond as she began dragging them toward the ring.

Doc could see from their vantage point that Whiskey Jim’s attention had been caught by the same tall, bald man with the scarred face and the long, grey overcoat that he had seen talking to Lou at The Stone Witch.  Drek.  Whoever he was, he proved that these two operations were linked without a shadow of a doubt.

The fight lasted longer than either of them anticipated, though Doc did not seem particularly surprised when it ended abruptly with a mighty haymaker from the burly man that left the scrawny one sprawled face first on sheets of cardboard. 

He played his role expertly, though.

“Well, that’s just a terrible way to start the evening,” he pouted dramatically, earning immediate sympathy from Sonya.

“Maybe I can help with that,” she said, her honeyed voice dripping with suggestion.

“What did you have in mind, darlin’?” Doc asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“I might have something that will cheer you right up.”  She pushed a small baggie into his hand as she whispered against his ear.

“Well, now.  That’s one way to liven things up,” he grinned as he slipped it into the pocket of his shirt.  “But I just lost most of my roll bettin’ on the underdog.  What’s that gonna set me back?”

“First one’s on me, Johnny.”  She kissed his cheek and giggled when his scruff tickled her face.  “But you know who to come back to for more.”

“I sure do, little lady.”

“Your friend gonna be a problem, cowboy?”

Doc glanced over at Dolls.  The vein on his neck was throbbing in time with the roar of the crowd and his eyes were practically bulging right out of his head.

“Aw, now.  Don’t you pay Mister Tall, Dark, and Blandsome no mind, missy.  He’ll be alright once we get this party started.”

“Why did you bring such a party pooper, anyway?  We could be having so much more fun without him.”  Sonya trailed a seductive finger down Doc’s chest.

“I was hoping to loosen him up a bit,” Doc chuckled.  “Seemed like he could use it.”

Sonya giggled, but never got a chance to respond.  Dolls was yanking Doc away from her by the collar of his shirt and dragging him back to the dark corner of the warehouse where they had started the night a few hours ago.  Doc barely had enough time to snatch his hat back from Sonya’s head before they were lost in the crowd.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re playing at here,  _ Sergeant _ .  But you just ruined any chance we had at getting any more information.”  Doc shoved his hands away from where they were still gripping his collar.

_ “Shhhhh!” _  Dolls hissed.

“If this is about the baggie of drugs, you oughta know I never planned for us to  _ use _ it.  I thought Wynonna might be able to have that lab rat friend of hers do some tests on it.  I lost the bet on purpose so she’d give it to me.  And if you—”

_ “Mr. Holliday,” _ Dolls seethed through clenched teeth, pulling Doc up short.

_ “What?” _ he asked with exasperation.

“I  _ know _ him.”

“…What?” he asked again, calmer this time.

Dolls spun Doc around by the shoulders and pointed him in the direction of Whiskey Jim and Drek.  Both of them peered around the support column and watched as a third man joined the other two, thin and fidgety, with sunken eyes and a leather jacket.

“You know  _ that _ rat?” Doc asked skeptically.  “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises.” 

“I don’t  _ know him, _ know him,” Dolls rolled his eyes.  “He’s a Revenant.  One of Lieutenant Colonel Del Rey’s MPs.”

“Aww, hell.”  Doc let out a long, low whistle.

“I don’t remember his name.  They call him ‘Peeper,’ or something like that.  He’s not really anybody important.  Just a lackey.  But he’s here checking in with the guy in charge.  That has to mean something.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Xavier.  Scarface over there was at The Stone Witch last week.  And now you’ve placed one of Del Rey’s men from the base here, too.  I’m not sure what we’ve stumbled into, friend, but I think it’s a lot deeper than any of us imagined.”

“It’s troubling, to be sure, Mr. Holliday.”  Dolls cracked the hint of a smile for the first time all night.  “Or should that be  _ John?” _

Doc rolled his eyes.  “I’ll have you know, that wasn’t a lie.”  Dolls quirked an eyebrow.  “My name is John Henry Holliday.”

“…Oh.  I was unaware.”

“Well, John is my father’s name, so I avoid it whenever I can.  But it’s about as generic as you can get.  And sometimes  _ that _ comes in handy,” he said with a wink.

“I suppose there’s a reason you and Ms. Haught come so highly recommended in this line of work.”  Dolls tipped his head in concession, the ghost of the smile still present.

“That there is,” Doc chuckled.  “And speaking of my partner, I think it’s time we hightail it outta here and fill the girls in on what we found out.”  He shoved his hands in his pockets and grumbled under his breath.  “Don’t want Wynonna calling me a manwhore again.”

Dolls snorted as the two of them slipped out the side door of the warehouse and disappeared into the night.

 

+++++

 

**_October 9, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

  
  


“The Heinie Lady Hawk is pretty hot.”

Waverly leaned in, unable to contain her excitement.  “I’ve got one of those, you know.”

“No shit?  Which finish?”

“Titanium Blue, of course,” she scoffed, as if there was any other answer.

“Good choice.”  Nicole grinned, and she could have sworn she saw Waverly’s breath catch in her throat.

It had been a little over a week since the two of them had gotten trapped in the storeroom at Shorty’s, and Nicole had found herself making up an excuse to drop by the BBA and check on Waverly after she had seemed so shaken by the encounter.  She figured Waverly’s enthusiasm over her recent shipment of Nighthawks was as good a reason as any to show up out of the blue.

Luckily, her plan had worked.  Waverly had shown her the new Turnbulls and the Custom Classic and the Border Special, and then for the past hour or so, they had been poring over the latest Nighthawk catalogue.  Nicole was picking out her favorites, and Waverly was giving her a running commentary on all of her choices.

“What about this Kestrel?” Nicole asked, dragging her finger over the glossy picture on the page.

Waverly giggled next to her, closer than was entirely necessary.  Nicole could feel the heat radiating off of her body.

“What?” she asked.  “You don’t approve?”

“I have one of those, too!”  Waverly beamed at her and Nicole swallowed hard.  “In the Black Nitride finish.   _ God, _ that gun is sex with a trigger on it.”

Nicole spluttered and Waverly flushed when she realized what she had just said.

“Uhhh…  I mean…” she backpedaled.  “Umm, do you want to see what my next purchase is going to be?” she asked, clumsily changing the subject.

“Sure,” Nicole chuckled.

“Okay, don’t move,” Waverly called as she disappeared into the back, muttering to herself.

Nicole took a minute to look around and realized they were the last two left in the shop.  According to the clock on the wall behind the counter, the place had closed over half an hour ago.  They had been so engrossed in drooling over the guns, they hadn’t even noticed that Chrissy must have cleaned up around them and locked the door on her way out.

Nicole was suddenly much more nervous than she had been before.

Waverly scurried back out a few minutes later, laying a small metal case on the counter.  She ran her fingers over it reverently before popping it open and spinning it around to face Nicole.

“Got this one in with the shipment, too.  But I’ve already put it on reserve.  I’ll be adding to my collection soon.”

“Just how big is your Nighthawk collection, anyway?” Nicole asked as she slid the case closer for a better look.

“Ummmm…” Waverly hesitated, almost shyly.  “I have thirteen Nighthawks at the moment.  That one will make fourteen,” she said, pointing at the case.

_ “Thirteen?”  _  Nicole’s eyes were wide with surprise.

“Yeah.  I’ve, uhh…”  Waverly fidgeted with the corners of the catalogue pages.  “I’ve got one from each model line.”

_ “Wow.” _  Waverly bit her lip and ducked her head, hiding her face, but Nicole didn’t let her fall prey to her embarrassment.  “I can certainly appreciate that kind of dedication.  If you think that highly of Nighthawk, perhaps I’ll have to add a few to my collection, as well.”

Waverly looked back up at her with excitement dancing in her eyes again.  “Really?”

“Absolutely.  I’ll let you help me decide which ones when I’m ready to make a purchase.”  She winked at Waverly, who blushed instantly.  Nicole felt a flutter in her chest that made her feel a little dizzy.  “So…” she said, trying to regain her focus.  “What do we have here?”

“That’s the newest Tri-Cut Carry.  Black Nitride finish with the Hard Chrome accents.”  Waverly couldn’t help the awe that seeped into her voice.

Nicole released the clip, then pulled back the slide and examined the chamber.

“9mm.  Compact.  Ideal for a concealed carry weapon.”  She traced the futuristic grip and then carefully placed it back in the velvet lining of the case.

“Exactly.  I have the Heinie Signature Compact,” Waverly said as she pulled the case close and carefully closed the latches.  “But there’s just something about this one…”

“Hey, I don’t blame you,” Nicole said with a chuckle.  “What was it you said?  Sex with a trigger on it?  I’d say that’s pretty accurate.”

“Umm…  yeah…”  Waverly made a distressed noise and awkwardly jerked her thumb over her shoulder.  “I’ll just…  Uhhh…  Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Nicole watched her hurry away and silently scolded herself for letting her flirting get out of control again.  She was supposed to be the stoic one.  Waverly didn’t like her that way and letting her feelings bleed through wasn’t going to do anyone any good.

With a bit of effort, she had managed to compose herself once again by the time Waverly had returned.

“Well, uhhh…  I guess I should be going.”  Nicole gestured around the empty shop.

“Oh,” Waverly said, seeming to notice they were alone for the first time.   _ “Oh.” _

“I’m sorry for keeping you past closing, Waverly.  That was incredibly inconsiderate on my part.”

“Oh.  No, it’s…  I mean…  I’m always happy to fangirl about Nighthawks,” Waverly said with something that almost hinted at hope in her eyes, but Nicole refused to let herself project feelings that simply weren’t there.

“If you could just let me out, I’ll let you get back to your night.”

“R-right.  Sure.”  Waverly grabbed her keys from behind the counter and silently followed Nicole to the front door.  She fidgeted with the lock for a bit until it finally twisted under her hand.  Pulling open the door, she looked at Nicole again, her expression unreadable.  “I…  I guess this is goodnight, then.”

Nicole looked down at Waverly and had to stop herself from reaching out to cup her red cheek, flexing her fingers at her side instead.

“Goodnight, Waverly,” she said quietly and then was out the door.

The crisp fall air was sobering, and Nicole cursed herself as she climbed behind the wheel of her Jeep.

“This has got to stop, Haught,” she mumbled as she tried to start her vehicle.  But rather than turning over, her engine just chugged sluggishly until she released the key in the ignition.  “What the hell…”  She tried again, and got no further.  “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Reaching out to the dashboard, Nicole flipped the switch for her headlights and got no response.  She tried the radio and got the same results.

“For fuck’s sake, soldier.  A dead battery?  Really?”

With a sigh, she climbed out of the Jeep and trudged back to the front door of the BBA.  She rapped her knuckles against it loudly, hoping Waverly would be able to hear her from her office.  After a few minutes with no response, she tried once more, using her entire fist this time.

That did the trick.

“We’re closed!” she heard Waverly yell from the depths of the darkened shop.  Nicole couldn’t help but laugh when she pounded on the door again.  “Oh my god, I said we are clo—” Waverly’s face appeared around doorframe behind the counter, and Nicole tried not to let herself believe that it lit up when she saw her standing there.  “Nicole?”

Nicole waved at her with a shrug, and Waverly hurried to find her keys again.  She fumbled with the lock again, this time because she was rushing instead of stalling, and she dropped her keys once in the process, but she finally managed to pull the door open.

They both spoke at the same time.

“Hey!  Did you want to g—”

“My battery’s dead.  Can you give me a jump?”

“Oh.”  Why did it look like she was disappointed?  “Umm…  I’m sorry, Nicole.  But I’m not in the Hellcat today.  I rode my bike.  Only have a week or two left before it gets too cold.”

“Oh.  Oh, okay.”  Nicole shifted her weight awkwardly.  “I’ll see if I can get ahold of Henry, then.  Or maybe Wynonna could swing by if he’s busy.”  She slid her phone out of her pocket and turned to leave.  “Sorry to bother you.”

“Nicole, wait.”

She hadn’t made it three steps from the door when she felt a hand on her forearm.  She turned back toward Waverly, her eyebrow raised.

Waverly dropped her hand immediately, her face red as she chewed on her lip, trying to make a decision.

“I could…” she trailed off like she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say.  Finally, she cleared her throat and tried again.  “I could, umm…  I could give you a ride home.  If you wanted.  And Henry could bring you by tomorrow to get the Jeep.”

“Are you sure?” Nicole asked, her mouth suddenly dry.  “My place is the opposite direction of your house.  It would be out of your way,” she frowned.

Waverly dismissed her with a quick wave of her hand.  “It’s no trouble.  It’s a beautiful night for a ride.  You might get a little cold in just that, though,” she added, plucking at the sleeve of Nicole’s Henley. 

“I guess it’s a good thing my field jacket is in the Jeep then,” she grinned.  Waverly blushed again and Nicole rubbed at the back of her neck.  “I’ll, uh...   Just let me grab it and lock everything up.”

Once the Jeep was fully secured, she met Waverly back in the shop and waited for her to lock up before following her to the office in the stockroom. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No, actually,” Waverly closed the ledger on her desk, “it looks like Chrissy took care of everything before she left.  I was just getting ready to leave when I heard you pounding on the door.”

It was Nicole’s turn to blush.  “Sorry…”

“It’s fine.  I’m just glad you caught me in time.”  She bent down to rummage through a cabinet next to her desk and Nicole nearly choked.  Waverly looked back over her shoulder, concern etched on her face.  “You alright?  Need some water?”

“No…” Nicole wheezed.  “I’m…  I’m fine…”

“Okay,” Waverly shrugged and went back to pulling something off the shelf.  When she turned around, she had a matte black, open-faced helmet in her hands that she held out to Nicole.  “Sorry, it’s nothing fancy.  It’s the only spare I have.”

Nicole took it from her and pulled the straps out from where they were tucked into the earholes. 

“I’m sure it will be fine.  Thank you.”

Waverly smiled and nodded and then grabbed her jacket off the rack behind the door.  It was black leather with several chrome zippers and bright red accents along the sleeves and across the chest.  Once she had it zipped up, she pushed up on her toes to reach the helmet that was sitting on the shelf atop the rack.  It was sleek and glossy with a mirrored black visor and red racing stripes that matched the ones on her jacket.

“Wow,” was all Nicole could manage to say.  Waverly grinned and threw her hair up into a messy bun with the hair tie she kept around her wrist.

“You ready?”

“Y-yeah,” Nicole practically squeaked, clearing her throat after.

“Alright.  Hit the lights for me?”  Waverly started to walk out the door of the office, but threw on the breaks, nearly plowing into Nicole when she stepped over to flip the light switch.

“Wh—”

“I almost forgot.”   She ducked back into the office and yanked open the top drawer of her desk, muttering under her breath.  When she found what she was looking for, she slammed it shut again and walked back over to Nicole.  “Since that helmet doesn’t have a visor, you’ll need these, too.”

Nicole looked down at the sunglasses Waverly was holding out.  With the bright pink frame and the rhinestone studs on the earpieces.  She looked back at Waverly with her eyebrow raised so high it nearly disappeared under her hair.

“Oh, shut up,” Waverly scoffed, rolling her eyes.  “I didn’t wear my good ones today because I don’t need them with my visor.  That’s all I’ve got in here, and the law requires eyewear.”

“Just…  Don’t tell Wynonna,” Nicole whined.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she laughed and stepped out into the storeroom, heading for the back door.  “Now let’s get out of here.”

Nicole turned off the lights in the office, closing the door on her way out, and followed closely on Waverly’s heels.  Once Waverly had locked up the back door, she pulled the cover off of her motorcycle where it was parked under the small carport with spaces reserved for her and Chrissy.

“Damn…” Nicole ran her hand over the handlebars and down along the tank while Waverly stashed the cover in the storage bin and locked it up.

“2017 V-Rod Night Rod Special,” Waverly said, pride obvious in her voice.  “Whaddaya think?”

“Daaaamn…” Nicole said again.  The black finish was mostly glossy like Waverly’s helmet, but had a few matte pieces that match her own helmet.  The wheel accents, racing stripes, and  _ Harley-Davidson _ across the tank were the same red as her jacket and helmet, and the pipes were highly polished chrome.

Nicole was in  _ love _ .

“That’s a serious piece of machinery you’ve got here, Wave.”

“Only the best,” Waverly joked as she pulled the helmet down on her head, making sure her hair stayed shoved up inside.  Nicole followed suit, securing the straps tightly under her chin.

But when Waverly threw her leg over the seat and began to get situated, Nicole froze, her heart pumping ice through her veins.

Waverly was giving her a ride on the bike.

That meant she was going to be sitting behind Waverly.

Waverly was going to be between her legs.  And she was going to have to hang on to her.

Nicole did  _ not _ think this through when she accepted the ride.

“What’s wrong?” Waverly asked, frowning through the opening in her helmet with the visor still pushed up.

“Uhhh…  I…”  She needed to think of something fast.  “I’ve, uh…  I’ve never ridden… you know…”

“Never ridden bitch before?” Waverly laughed.

She had.  With some of her friends in high school.  But she couldn’t tell Waverly the real problem.

“Uhh, yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” Waverly giggled.  “I won’t tell Wynonna about this, either.”

Nicole’s face burned, but she rolled her eyes and moved to climb on the pillion seat.  Waverly kicked out the second set of foot pegs, and Nicole carefully placed a hand on her shoulder, hoisting herself onto the back of the bike.

The insides of her thighs and knees were pressed tightly against Waverly’s hips and Nicole found that she was holding her breath.  She pushed the ridiculous sunglasses on her face and then cautiously allowed her hands to fall to Waverly’s waist.

Waverly stiffened under her touch and Nicole immediately jerked her hands away. 

“Sorry,” she muttered as she tried to find something behind her that she could hold onto instead.   Unfortunately the passenger pad was tiny and sat flush with the rear wheel guard.  She couldn’t even scoot back to give Waverly more space, or tuck her fingers under the cushion to hang on.

Waverly reached back without turning around and grabbed one of Nicole’s hands, bringing it back to her waist.

“You have to hang on, Nic.  There’s not much of a seat back there.”

“O-okay…”

She tentatively brought her other hand back up and held firmly to both of Waverly’s sides.

“That’s fine for now.  But once we hit the road, you’re gonna have to hold on tighter.  You’ll probably need to wrap them around, okay?”

Nicole thought she could hear a slight trembling in Waverly’s voice.  She was pretty sure it was mirrored in her own.

“I-if you’re s-sure…”

“Well, if you fall off the back of my bike, Nicole, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep  _ that _ from Wynonna.”

Nicole couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fair enough,” she said.  She couldn’t see Waverly’s face, but she saw the helmet in front of her nod. 

Waverly turned the key to the ignition and the engine roared to life beneath them.  She revved it up a couple of times, giving it a chance to wake up against the cool night air, and then she carefully backed them out of the space and took off across the parking lot.

Nicole held out for as long as she could, gripping Waverly’s hips tightly.  But once Waverly hit the open road, Nicole had no other choice but to scoot as far forward as she could, pressing her body flush against Waverly’s back and wrapping her arms completely around her waist.  She felt the bike swerve beneath her and she worried she had bumped Waverly’s arms in the process, but they straightened out almost immediately and Nicole just chalked it up to a strange coincidence. 

Maybe there had been a pothole Waverly was trying to avoid.  It definitely had to be something like that.

Waverly had been right.  It was a beautiful night for a ride.  Nicole was tall enough to still have full range of vision over Waverly’s shoulder, and once she let herself get distracted by the skylines of the city lit up against the night, she was able to relax a little and enjoy the ride.  The crisp wind whipped against her face, and she was grateful for the glasses Waverly had given her, regardless of how dumb she might look wearing them.

Nicole noticed Waverly had taken the long way back, but she found that she didn’t mind.  Watching Waverly navigate the streets with ease, expertly handling the powerful bike, was impressive, to say the least.  Nicole was actually a bit disappointed when she realized they were pulling up outside her apartment building.

Waverly jumped the bike up over the curb, out of the way of passing traffic and any pedestrians, though the sidewalk seemed rather deserted at the moment.  She cut the engine and kicked out the stand so that she could rest her weight back in the seat.

Nicole reluctantly withdrew her arms from around Waverly’s waist and scooted back, watching Waverly shudder as the cold air rushed between them again.  Waverly lifted her helmet off and pulled the tie out of her messy hair, shaking it out.  She turned and grinned at Nicole over her shoulder, watching as she pulled the sunglasses off and undid her own helmet straps.

“Well?” she asked, her eyes dancing.  “How was it back there?”

“Amazing,” Nicole breathed before she could stop herself.  Waverly beamed.  “Your bike is  _ awesome,” _ Nicole said as she carefully climbed down from the pillion seat.  “You’re not so bad yourself,” she added, playfully poking Waverly in the ribs.

“Oh, stop,” Waverly teased, batting her hand away.  She hung her own helmet from one of the handlebars and then dismounted.  She took Nicole’s from her and moved to strap it down to the tail bar, making sure it was secure for the ride home.  “It’s too bad it’s so late in the season.  Maybe next year we could take it out for a ride in the countryside.”

Nicole grinned and Waverly blushed when she realized what she had suggested.

“That sounds like fun,” Nicole said before Waverly could change her mind.  She had to stop herself from adding  _ it’s a date _ .

They were standing so close to each other again. 

It kept happening today.  Huddled together over Nighthawk catalogue, almost touching.  By the front door when Nicole was leaving the store.  The door of Waverly’s office.  And  _ of course _ while on the bike.  Nicole was always so sure that she was imagining things, but she couldn’t deny that Waverly was stepping closer to her yet again. 

They were practically breathing the same air, and with the way Waverly was looking up at her, Nicole was leaning forward, about to do something  _ really _ stupid.

“Nicole!  Welcome back!”

And just like that, the moment was broken.  Nicole made a mental note to buy her doorman a gift for stopping her from making a mistake she wouldn’t be able to take back.

She took a hasty step backward, convincing herself that she hadn’t just felt the breath rush out of Waverly’s lungs when she did so.

“Good evening, Stanley,” she said, nodding her head to him. 

Waverly turned away from her quickly, reaching for her helmet and jamming it down on her head without even bothering to put her hair back up.  She threw her leg over the seat and kicked the stand back up in one fluid motion.

“Thanks for the ride, Waverly,” Nicole called out to her stepping around to the front of the bike.

“Anytime,” Waverly mumbled through her helmet before dropping the visor and firing up the engine.  She eased the bike away from the wall of the building and then checked to make sure no one was coming before dropping off the curb and back out into the street.

Nicole waved when Waverly glanced back over her shoulder briefly, and Waverly returned a half-hearted wave before she shot forward with a loud rumble.  Nicole took a deep breath and turned to enter her building.

“Thanks, Stanley,” she said when the doorman held the door open for her.  “Have a good night.”

“You, too, Nicole.”

“Why does the universe hate me?” Nicole grumbled to herself as she waited for the elevator.

 

+++++

 

**_October 11, 2018 – Homestead, MA_ **

 

“Mattie! My favorite analyst!”

“I already have the results, Earp, there’s no need to suck up,” Mattie muttered as she straightened from her microscope and picked up a folder.

Wynonna yanked the folder out of her hand. “You could’ve told me that when I walked in.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Mattie leaned against the table. “Your gun is a Beretta M9.”

“Berettas are fucking lame-”

“Registered to Brigadier General Lucado from Fort Wainwright.”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.”

Mattie raised an eyebrow. “You’re familiar.”

Wynonna just turned towards the door, smacking the report against her leg. “I was really,  _ really _ hoping I wouldn’t have to go back to that goddamn base.”

 

+++++

 

PFC McCoy smirked at Wynonna as he leaned into the car window. “Sorry, detectives. It’s not a good day for you to visit the base. Maybe you should just turn around and go back home.”

Wynonna waved a paper in his face. “We have a warrant, jackass. For Brigadier General Lucado’s firearm.”

McCoy paled slightly and shot a glance over the car at Junger. “Ah. Well. Why don’t you head over to the Provost Marshal’s office, detectives?”

“ _ Thank you _ , Private,” Wynonna said sweetly, before rolling up her window and driving forward.

 

+++++

 

“I told you two not to come back here,” Del Ray snarled as Wynonna and Nedley walked into his office.

“Well, that was before we pulled a bullet out of a dead guy, and it led us  _ riiiiiight _ back here,” Wynonna said.

“What are you-.”

“Everything is fine, Lieutenant Colonel,” Lucado said as she swiftly walked into the room, shutting the door behind her. She stood in front of Del Ray’s desk, smiling fakely and knotting her hands at her waist. “How can I help you, detectives?”

“Brigadier General Lucado?” Wynonna asked.

“That would be me.”

“I’m Detective Wynonna Earp, this is my partner, Detective Randy Nedley.”

“We’re here because a delivery driver for one of your suppliers was recently found dead in a nearby river. He was shot with a bullet fired from a Beretta M9 that is registered to… you.”

Lucado didn’t even flinch. “My Beretta? Oh, well, I can’t give you any insight into how that could’ve happened, Detective.”

“Really,” Wynonna said dryly.

“Of course not. My Beretta was stolen last week. I reported it and was issued a new firearm. You can check the report.”

Nedley gritted his teeth. “That’s… convenient.”

Lucado laughed loudly. “Surely you don’t think I’d shoot a delivery driver. For what possible reason? If the  _ local police _ had found the gun  _ sooner _ , maybe this terrible tragedy wouldn’t have happened.”

Nedley grabbed Wynonna’s arm before she could snarl whatever retort was obviously coming based on the look of rage on her face. “We’ll look into that report, ma’am. If you have any more information, please let us know.”

Del Ray and Lucado both just watched as he all but dragged Wynonna out of the room, whispering frantically to her to keep her under control.

As soon as they left, Lucado rounded on the Provost Marshal.

“You  _ fucking idiot _ ,” she spat. “It’s a good thing I had that gun reported missing already! I told you to  _ get rid of it _ .”

“They’ll never find the gun,” Del Ray hissed. “I had Ramaker, Sturgiss, and Red get rid of the body. You know that. Apparently they need a few lessons in how to do their jobs  _ properly _ .”

Lucado jabbed a finger into his chest. “You had better  _ guarantee _ that they learn it and that that gun never sees the light of day, Del Ray. Or I swear to god, Stokes won’t be the only asshole at the bottom of a fucking river.” She spun on her heel and stormed out of the office, leaving Del Ray stewing at his desk.


End file.
